Be Not Afraid of Greatness
by ElusiveSanity
Summary: Third installment to my little series that started with "Irony, thy Name is Cameron." With Sarah temporarily out of the game with a severe injury, Cameron must continue to help John prepare for what is to come.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! Welcome to the third installment of my little Jameron series. If you haven't read my first two, _Irony, thy Name is Cameron, _and _That Which We Call Fate_, then I suggest you run along and get to it! You won't have a clue what's going on if you try reading this first. This story is meant to be a lot darker, and seem a lot more mature than the other two purposely. However, my actual writing itself has improved and evolved on its own. My writing style has come a long way since startin Irony. Anyway, I hope you continue to enjoy my series.  
**

* * *

"John I forget, what can this piece do?"

"That's the rook, or the castle," he explained to the girl. "It can go any amount of spaces left and right, or up and down."

"Oh, yeah!" She looked at the board seriously for several minutes before choosing to move her bishop three spaces. "Check!"

John smiled. "Very good. But look closer... Aren't you forgetting about someone?"

Savannah frowned and stared at the board. "No… What do you… Oh!" She smiled sheepishly. "It leaves my king open. Can I have a redo?"

John sighed dramatically. "Oh I suppose…" He chuckled when she eagerly returned the piece to its previous spot.

Cameron watched curiously from her spot on the other bed. "Another redo?"

John looked up and ran his eyes over her lounging form appreciatively. She was wearing short shorts, a tank top, and his laptop on her lap. "Hey, we make up our own rules. Right Savannah?"

"Right. Check!"

John looked down at the bored to see that he was, indeed, again in check. "Well well well… somebody's improving."

The girl grinned brightly. John had only taught her how to play the game last night. They had stayed at a motel one night that was right next door to a dollar store, and John, being just as bored as Savannah, had decided some good old school toys were in order. He had bought a few coloring books, crayons, and a cheap two-dollar chessboard. After watching Cameron thoroughly beat John at every game for several nights in a row, Savannah finally asked to learn how to play. John was patient with her, giving her unlimited redo's and letting her win every so often.

Cameron returned her attention to the computer in her lap, tuning out the sounds of an evidently victorious Savannah as she scanned over the property details one last time.

"I believe I found a suitable residence for us, John."

Savannah immediately hopped off her bed and leapt onto the other, crawling up beside Cameron and peering at the screen. "Where's the picture?"

"Yeah, where's the picture?" John agreed, taking a seat on the other side of the bed, sandwiching Cameron between them.

"There isn't a picture, but the description says it is quite spacious, and the property is large enough for what we need it for. It's also fairly private, on the outskirts of a small town that I couldn't even find on the map."

John gave her a funny look. "I thought it'd be safer in a city. More people, bigger crowd, harder to find one John Connor?"

"They still found you," Cameron pointed out. "And we need the rural area for preparations."

"All right, you're the expert," John shrugged and yawned. "We'll give them a call in the morning."

* * *

Cameron quietly walked back into their small motel room and locked the door behind her. A quick scan assured her that Savannah was still asleep, but John was awake, likely having waked up at the first sound of the key in the door. She kicked off her shoes and pulled off her jeans, having been told more than once by John that wearing denim in bed was a heinous, uncomfortable crime. She slid under the covers and laid down in John's awaiting open arms.

"Anything exciting out there?" he whispered.

"No," she replied, just as softly. "Two stray cats were mating on the other side of the building. They were loud. I'm glad our room is far away."

John chuckled. "I will definitely be glad to get out of these old, shady motels."

"John, there are a few details that we still need to… work out… before we go through with this."

John remained silent, waiting for her to inevitably continue. He rubbed her back comfortingly, telling her she could go on.

"We need a story. Obviously, our biggest concern is Savannah."

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well… we could pass her off as a little sister. Er… half sister, maybe. That we ended up with after a tragic accident or something."

"That could work," Cameron agreed. "But that might seem a bit suspicious."

"Yeah, probably." John thought about it seriously for several minutes. "Well, what has Catherine already set us up with? All that junk in that envelope she gave us."

Cameron recalled the list of items. "Savannah's IDs, as well as new IDs for me, a marriage license, and her birth certificate with our names on it."

John grimaced. "I know we're like, supposed to adopt her eventually and all or something, but… well, I can probably only pass for early twenties. I'm pretty sure adopting her at this age would look pretty suspicious too."

Cameron did some quick calculations. "You were sixteen, you knocked me up when I was fifteen."

John almost burst out in laughter. He wasn't sure if it was the absurdity of the situation, or her use of 'knocked me up'. "Wow, jailbait… Go me. But how are you going to explain her gingerness?"

"I can dye my hair a color closer to hers. The rest can be explained with genes. Your father had blue eyes, and my mother had bright red hair and blue eyes. I get my darker tones and brown eyes from my father. However, our recessive genes paired up to give her blue eyes and red hair. Her hair will probably naturally turn darker someday."

John blinked in the darkness. He had never paid that much attention in health class, or biology class, or whatever class it was that he probably learned that kind of stuff in. He'd just take Cameron's much more intelligent word for it, and not think about how weird it was to hear a machine talk about her made up parents in the first person. Allison had talked to him about her own parents a few times, and… well, he couldn't help but be reminded of it. It wasn't weird in a bad way. It didn't freak him out. It was just… weird. It's the only way he could describe it.

"Okay… so we have her explained. What about us?"

"Well… her birth certificate has our current identities on it. I'm still Cameron Summers. But we have the marriage license, so I suppose we could go both ways."

John wasn't thrilled with the idea of playing it as if they were married. Not that he didn't want to marry her, obviously. But that was just it, wasn't it?

"Cameron… um," he paused, feeling a little uncertain. "Do you… think it's cheesy if I told you I'd rather play it as if we never got married? It's not that I don't want to be married to you, of course!" He got it out quickly, before she had a chance to turn angry, hurt, or any of the other scary woman characteristics on him. "It's just that, I don't know… I kind of really wanted to make it official this time, you know? Derek said we weren't really married in the future, even though you were technically considered my wife…" He rubbed his face, feeling like a moron.

Cameron slid her hand under his shirt and rubbed his stomach. "It's not cheesy for you to want to have an actual wedding. Lots of men look forward to it."

"Well, what about you?" he asked almost hesitantly. "What do you want?"

She half sat up so she could look at him better. "I want you to be happy. I know marrying me with an actual ceremony is important to you."

John sighed. "Yeah but, it's not… It means nothing to me if it doesn't mean anything to you."

"I don't want to pretend," she whispered. "In the future, there will be people who don't accept me. They'll call me metal expletives; they'll think I'm only pretending to be… who I am." She gazed at him through the darkness, her eyes emanating the faintest glow. "And they will think I only pretend to love you. Because of this, I don't want to only pretend to be your wife."

"All right then. It might not matter to them," John said softly as he reached up and caressed her cheek. "But it'll matter to you… to us. For now, we'll just be honest. We're engaged to be married. We can make up anything else as we go along, shouldn't be that hard, right? We'll just keep to ourselves." He looked over at the other bed when he heard Savannah mumbling in her sleep. "Oops," he whispered.

"Go back to sleep. We'll be out of here tomorrow."

* * *

John woke up to a strange crumpling sound. He rolled over and opened his eyes to see Savannah sitting on the bed with a coloring book. Something silver in her hands was making all the noise. She reached into the shiny pouch and pulled something square out of it.

"Are those PopTarts?" John asked hopefully.

"Mmm hmm," she replied as she chewed the pastry.

"Awesome. You're sharing. Gimme."

Savannah pulled the package out of his reach. "Go get your own!"

John blinked in surprise. "Hey, I thought we were best buddies!" He frowned when the line got him nowhere. "Fine. Where did you get them?"

"From the vending machine down that way." She pointed in the direction of the far end of the motel.

"Did you go out by yourself? Where's Cameron?"

Savannah shrugged. "I dunno."

John stood up and peeked out the window. The van wasn't in the parking lot. "You know you shouldn't have left the room by yourself."

She looked up from her coloring book with a semi-pout. "But I was hungry."

John sighed and rubbed his face. "Where did you get the money?"

Savannah pointed to his jeans on the chair and pulled a yellow crayon out of the box. "You had quarters in your pocket."

He looked from her, to the chair, and shook his head. He checked his pockets for more change but only came up with 35 cents. Huffing, he grabbed his wallet from the table and opened it up. It was of course completely empty.

"Women… taking all my damn money…"

* * *

John held on to the door handle as the van bounced back and forth on the dirt road. "Do you think maybe you could try to avoid the larger craters before I lose my breakfast?"

"I told you not to eat that sausage egg McMuffin."

"Cameron…"

"Relax, we're here." She pulled the van to a stop in front of the house at their new address. It was the first time any of them were seeing the property. Cameron had only gone to the real estate agent first thing in the morning and flashed a lot of cash to get the keys.

"You… have got… to be shitting me…" John stared out the windshield with his mouth wide open.

"Is this our new house?" Savannah asked from the back seat. She leaned forward, almost climbing into the front to look through the windshield. Her expression was a twin image of John's.

Cameron tilted her head. "I think it's charming." In actuality, she really had no idea what "charming" meant, but it seemed appropriate for the situation. Her HUD had suggested it might break the tension.

Two sets of eyes slowly tracked to her. John blinked a few times. "Charming? This place looks like the Amityville Horror!"

"I saw that movie, John. It looks nothing like it. The shape of the house-" John climbed out of the van and shut the door before she could finish. Savannah followed suit and stood beside him, taking his right hand in a tight grip.

"Do you think it has ghosts?" she whispered.

"What? Nah…" John shook his head, pretending the exact same question wasn't running though his own head. "Besides, we got Cameron here to protect us, right?"

They both turned back to gaze at Cameron, who was still sitting in the driver's seat. John pounded his hand once on the hood. "Hey, you… get your cute butt out here and at least tell me this creepy place has running water."

Cameron climbed out of the van and shut the door. She headed straight for the house without a glance in his direction. "I would not choose a location without the basic necessities, John."

"Oh, so it comes with an exorcist?"

She paused in her tracks, but didn't turn to look at him. The effect was somehow stronger that way, and John rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Sorry, I was kidding. Sheesh. Someone forgot to pack her sense of humor…"

Savannah giggled as they followed Cameron up to the house. John mentally tried to take a few positive notes on it from the outside.

First, it was big. That was good. It also had two stories. That usually meant lots of rooms. None of the windows seemed to be missing, that was another plus.

But damn, it was old. Really, really old. Like, it needed repainted 30 years ago kind of old. The kind of old that's essentially a fire hazard. The kind of old that no matter how much you cleaned, it would never stop looking dirty. The kind of old…

"Watch your step," Cameron warned, eyeing the rotting porch steps skeptically. Savannah held John's hand tighter as they carefully climbed up the porch and followed her into the house.

John looked around in shock. "Wow, I didn't know it was fully furnished."

Cameron gave him one of those looks only women can give, and he decided that it was probably best if he just chose to keep his mouth shut for a while. He wandered into the living room and tugged the dusty sheet off the couch.

"Wow, it's nice, too," he mumbled, quickly looking up to make sure the comment didn't earn him another glare.

"How come the people left all their stuff?" Savannah asked, looking at an antique mirror hanging on the wall.

"Double murder-suicide." Cameron said nonchalantly as she opened a door John presumed lead to the basement.

"What?" Savannah looked at John with wide, frightened eyes. He mentally facepalmed and gave her a comforting smile.

"She's joking, honey. I think she's just trying to get that sense of humor back. Don't worry. We left a lot of stuff at our old houses too, right? Sometimes people just prefer to buy new stuff when they move, and leave their old stuff behind for people like us." John ruffled her hair and gave Cameron his own 'did you have to say that?' glare.

Her blank facial expression didn't change, but she held his gaze longer than necessary; her way of apologizing. She disappeared down the basement stairs in search of the breaker box.

John patted Savannah's back. "Come on… let's go find you a cool bedroom."

* * *

"Yeah, we finally found a place. Well, Cameron did."

"Good. It's about damn time," Sarah limped over to the couch and eased herself down with a grunt. "Well, how is it?"

"It's um… it's charming," John said, stealing Cameron's earlier description of it.

Sarah stared up at the ceiling. "That sounded so convincing."

John looked around to see if the cyborg was in sight. He didn't see her anywhere, but he lowered his voice anyway. "Let's just leave it at 'it has really… old… character.'"

"Oh for fuckssake…" Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose. "Is it really that bad?"

"No. Yes. No. I mean… it's charming," he repeated. "How's your leg doing?"

Sarah accepted the change of subject gracefully. She'd see the disaster soon enough. "It's doing better. I'm not running a fever anymore, so that's a good thing right? Derek finally let me out of bed."

"Four days of Bitchy Sarah, Flaming Dragon finally got to be too much, huh?"

"John Kyle…" Sarah warned.

"It's all right. He texted me just about every twenty minutes. Apparently I owe him more than can ever be repaid by a single man in one lifetime."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, I hear Cameron calling. I gotta go mom. Love you bye!" John quickly hung up the phone before he could dig himself… and his uncle, in an even deeper grave.

"John, we need to go shopping."

John spun around to find Cameron standing in the living room doorway. "Oh… shopping? Sounds good… Um, what do we need?"

Cameron just stared at him. "We need bedding for the beds. I don't think you want to sleep on them as-is. There's blood on ours."

"Ugh, no… no I think not. And by the way, try to keep those kinds of things quiet. I don't want her to get scared." He walked over to her and kissed her on the forehead. "What about food? Is the fridge in working condition?"

Cameron grimaced. "No. I had to carry the refrigerator outside to the trash. I'm not quite sure what sorts of organisms were growing inside of it."

Usually John would have protested this act of super human strength, but he stopped himself before he said anything. What did it matter? They were a mile away from any other civilization. It wasn't like anyone was going to see her.

"Okay, so new fridge. Anything else?"

"We need a wide variety of home improvement products and tools."

John barely held himself back from groaning. "By 'wide variety' are we talking different shades of paint, or are we talking renting a U-Haul and buying every other item in Home Depot?"

"Somewhere in between." She called for Savannah as they headed out the door.

"Great. Sounds fabulous. I hope you have a list."

"I do," Cameron quipped as she climbed in the driver's seat. "Would you like to connect my CPU to your BlackBerry and upload it to your Memos application?"

John made a rude gesture to her with his right hand as he walked around the van to the passenger side.

"Perhaps later…" she deadpanned, a slight smirk on her lips.

John laughed as he climbed in beside her. He leaned over the center console to plant a wet kiss on her cheek. "And that's why I love you."

"You love me because I said there was a possibility that we would f-?"

John quickly slapped his hand over her mouth.

XXXXX


	2. The real chapter 2

**Thank you very much for sticking around and waiting for this update. As you know from the previous AN I posted, I started a new job that I had a week and a half to relocate for last minute. I'm a high school teacher, so the work I have to do never seems to end. It's been very hard finding time to write, but I got lucky with this weekend, and sat down today for about 6 hours and busted out this chapter for you (finally!). I hope you enjoy it. **

**I'm also just going to say that my chapters will probably continue to be slow coming for a while. I promise I will not quit writing this story, so please don't email me asking if I've quit or died or something. Patience is a virtue. You'll get chapter 3 as soon as possible. :) If you want to keep up with me, you can find me on Twitter as Elusive_Sanity  
**

* * *

John leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. He was tired, he had a headache, and he was sweating like crazy. It was hot as hell in the house; the only relief from the heat was a few dusty fans the previous owners had left. They were definitely going to have to go back and buy every window air conditioning unit the county had to sell.

He heard Cameron settle down beside him and peeked at her through hooded eyelids. "Hey, you."

"Hello." She leaned in closer to him and slid her hand around his arm, gently caressing the sensitive skin on the inside of his elbow with the tips of her fingers.

"I love it when you do that." He smiled, enjoying the simple touch.

"I know. You always have," she said, a hint of playfulness in her voice. She reached up and lightly brushed her fingers over his neck, much like she did the very first time she scanned him.

John blushed slightly. "Yeah okay, you caught me off guard then. That's a rather intimate kind of touch. I had no idea what you were doing."

Cameron smirked, telling him she knew that too.

"Evil… evil I tell you." He shook his head in mock exasperation and bumped her shoulder. "And I hate you, by the way. Even when you actually sweat, you look hot."

Cameron tilted her head and looked at him as if he was an idiot. "I sweat because I am hot."

"That's not what…" John just shook his head and sighed. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "By 'you look hot', I meant you look sexy."

"Oh… thank you for explaining. I appreciate the compliment. Unfortunately, you are starting to excrete a foul body odor, so I cannot politely return the favor."

"Thanks. I appreciate your honesty," he grumbled, noticing the smirk that had returned to her lips.

"You're welcome," she deadpanned. "I cleaned the bathroom, so you can shower after Savannah is finished."

"Did you get all those nasty cobwebs out of there?" He hated spiders.

"Yes, and I made up the beds with the new linens as well."

John draped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer. "You're the best, you know that?" He kissed her on the forehead and smiled. "What do you say we shower, you know, together so we can conserve the well water and all… and try out that old mattress?'

"All right…" she said slowly. "But there's one last thing we need to do tonight."

He looked down at her curiously. "And what's that?"

"We need to talk to Savannah."

"Oh… that." John sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Listen, Cameron. I've been thinking. Maybe… maybe we don't really need to change our stories all that much. What if we just said that she's my red-headed half sister, her parents died in an accident, and we were the only family who could take her in?"

"We could."

John waited for her to continue, but she didn't. "Okay, why do I feel like there's a 'but' in there somewhere?"

"I'm considering the future implications of this decision."

John rolled his eyes. "The future? Have you considered that perhaps claiming she's our kid, adopted or not, may have been the reason she was a Skynet target in the first place?"

"It is the reason," Cameron said.

"Okay then. We can save her a lot of trouble now, you know. Let her be who she is, unrelated to me. Then maybe Skynet won't send a terminator back after her, and-"

"They'll still send one back. That won't change, John. Her importance in the future is inevitable."

"But why does it have to be?" John nearly shouted.

"How could it not be?" Cameron countered. "Look where she is, John. Look who she's with. Look at how much she already knows. She'll be important, regardless of what name she has."

John stood up and started pacing. "Okay fine. But what if having my last name just exacerbates the situation?

"What if it's the only thing that saves her life?" Cameron stood up as well, and carefully stepped around the low coffee table. "By the time you take over the human resistance, Savannah will be a teenager, plenty old enough to join the forces. Having your last name will guarantee respect, and people will be more likely to listen to her. More importantly… it will provide her with a degree of protection she would otherwise not have."

John stared down at the dusty wood floor. Somewhere in his mind he registered that the dirty, faded rug that was still laid out definitely had to go, but that wasn't the focus of his attention. Cameron, of course, was right. Savannah would be a target no matter what. Having his last name would grant her protection right along with him. He wasn't dumb. He realized the power a simple last name could hold. All you had to do was look through history. Or the government.

"All right," he said finally. "But don't you dare make me tell her on my own. This whole 'I'm John Connor I need to do this and that' thing is null and void in this situation. I have absolutely no idea what to say to her. It's going to be weird for all of us."

Cameron stepped in front of him and waited for him to look at her. "I've never denied you my help when you asked. Even when it went against my better judgment… or my programming."

John remained silent for a long moment, simply gazing back at her. When he finally spoke again, his voice was low, almost seductive. "I'm not even sure how much of you is programming, and how much of you is just… you, anymore."

"I'm all programming, John. Ones and zeros. You can remove my chip, edit my programming, and I wouldn't be me anymore."

John reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, leaving his hand against her cheek. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"I know…" She glanced away briefly. "I just can't answer that question."

John shrugged. "Well I'm not really sure why I do some of the dumb shit that I do either. So I guess we're on an equal playing field." He took her hand and tugged her towards the stairs. "Let's get this chit chat over and done with. We've got much better things to be doing."

Cameron stopped moving, causing John to nearly trip. He turned around and looked at her in question.

"Did you just call me dumb?"

John blinked. "What? No! I was just saying-"

Cameron swiftly interrupted. "You know, I think with all this property we own, it might be prudent to patrol the perimeter tonight."

John clenched his jaw and pointed at her accusingly. "Okay, you see right there? What you're doing? That's not programming. That's evil Cameron being mean to me."

Cameron tilted her head. "Or perhaps it is my programming… to protect you."

John narrowed his eyes and continued up the steps. "Not with that smirk on your face."

"Programming."

"Programming my ass."

* * *

XXXXXXXXXXXX

_Two weeks later_

_XXXXXXXXXXXX_

_

* * *

_

Derek watched as Sarah took apart the guns they still had left and cleaned them for the fourth time that week.

"Why don't you just call him?"

"He doesn't want me to call him. He doesn't need his mommy checking up on him every five minutes," Sarah said curtly.

Derek sighed and grabbed another beer from the fridge. "Maybe not every five minutes, but perhaps once a day would suffice."

"I don't want to be a so-called 'overprotective ninny'."

"Oh for Christ's sake!" Derek nearly slammed the fridge shut in frustration. "You were constantly calling and texting the poor kid. He's got his very own indestructible bodyguard. He's perfectly fine. He just wants some independence from his mother for the first time in his life. It's natural, he's all grown up Sarah. Just give him some time and-"

He swiftly shut up when she clicked her 9mm back together. He carried his beer out to the back yard and pulled out his cell phone to text his nephew.

CALL YOUR MOTHER. APOLOGIZE. OR I WILL KILL YOU MYSELF.

* * *

XXX

John heard his phone beep and ignored it as he nailed the last board down. He checked that it was firmly secure before standing up and cracking his back. He dropped the hammer and wiped his face on the t-shirt he had draped over the railing before picking up his phone and opening the message.

"Yeah… okay Derek." He snorted and set the phone back down beside the shirt. "Not my fault she's hormonal. As a matter of fact, it's not my problem either."

He walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He chugged the whole thing at once before tossing it in the trashcan. "Back to work," he muttered to himself and headed back out to the front porch.

Cameron had him fixing the front steps today. Yesterday, it was painting the shed. The day before that, it was building said shed. Before that, it was the roof, and before the roof, it was mowing their extremely large lawn.

John shook his head and leaned against the railing. He spit down into the dirt and watched it soak into the ground. What the hell was wrong with living in the city?

"Screw this," he said to the bushes and headed back into the newly air-conditioned house. He plopped down on the couch with a groan and grabbed the TV remote. "Time for a break."

* * *

XXX

Two rows of young girls spun around gracefully in front of a large mirror to the music of Chopin. A small crowd of parents watched from the doorway as their little ballerinas twirled on their toes.

"My Ashley is going to enter the regional competition next month," a dark-skinned mother said proudly.

"Oh, really? I'm sure she'll do wonderful!" another mother quipped with a forced smile.

"My eldest daughter, Becca, placed third in the regionals last year." A blonde woman interjected. "She went all the way to nationals where she placed fifteenth!"

"Well, I personally think they're way too young for competitions," a short, mousey looking mother spoke up. "Elizabeth won't be competing until she's ten, at least. And then it will be her decision, not mine. I won't force my child to do anything."

The other mothers barely hid their frowns as their eyes tracked to the quiet woman watching the children from the shadows. "What about you? You're Savannah's mother, right? She's very good."

"Thank you," the auburn-haired woman spoke softly, her eyes meeting theirs only briefly. "Savannah will also not be competing."

The tall blonde woman eyed her up carefully. "So… what do you do Mrs. Taylor?"

"It's Summers, we're not married. Please, call me Cameron," she said with slight irritation. "What do you mean by 'do'?"

"Well, I mean…" The woman who was quite obviously not a natural blonde seemed a bit flustered. "You're new in this town. What do you do job-wise?"

"I don't have a job," she said curtly, before turning back to the ballet class.

"Oh, I see. I always wanted to be a stay at home mom, but it never worked out. Not with all these ballet classes to pay for, of course! What does your, um… Well, what does Savannah's father do?"

"John does not have a job either," Cameron stated. She registered the raised eyebrow looks, and realized that by social standards, at least one of them should have a job. "We just moved here. There is a lot of work to be done around the house before he gets a job." She received a few doubtful nods before adding, "I will most likely work from home."

"Oh, I sell Avon," the short woman piped in. "We just got our books with all the new fall shades if you're interested."

They were interrupted by a herd of girls running towards them, and Cameron was grateful she didn't have to keep up with that particular conversation. A girl whose fire-red hair clashed with her pink leotard pushed her way past her classmates and made her way to Cameron's side. "Hi Ca… Mommy, do you have my- oh, thanks." She took her sneakers from Cameron and sat down on the floor to change out of her ballet slippers.

"Did you enjoy class today, Savannah?"

The girl nodded as she tied her shoes the way John taught her. She stood up and followed Cameron out to the van.

"I watched you. You were the best dancer."

Savannah beamed as she opened the passenger door and climbed in. "Really? Even better than Ashley? She said she's going to be in a competition, and said that everyone told her she is going to win. Do you think she is going to win?"

Cameron was used to the flowing, non-stop conversation from the girl. She was getting better at figuring out what it was she was really trying to ask. "I think she's a good dancer, but not as good as you."

That seemed to satisfy Savannah, and the girl started to rummage through her school bag.

"Do you have a lot of homework?"

"Yes," Savannah groaned as she pulled out her math workbook. "I hate fourth grade!"

"Well, since it's Friday, you can have the night off of homework." She received an excited "Yes!" from the girl before she had a chance to continue. "But we have training tonight."

Savannah groaned once more and laid her head back against the seat. "I don't like training," she whined.

Cameron considered her options as she turned down their dirt road. "What if you and I are a team, and we hunt John this time?"

Savannah giggled and put her math book away. "He'll probably be a cry baby about it."

"Probably." Cameron smiled.

* * *

XXX

"Wait… so how long of a head start do I get?" John was certain the switch from the normal 'find Cameron' game was due to the fact that she busted him sleeping on the couch instead of folding the laundry she asked him to.

Cameron handed Savannah her pink-filled paintball gun. "I'll give you three minutes. That's more time than you would get in real life."

"No now wait," John held his hand up. "Assume that someone says 'hey John, there's a terminator coming. Run your ass off.' I might actually get a bigger head start."

Cameron filled her own gun with blue paint balls. It was the first time they were using some sort of weapon with ammunition. Aside from target practice, they had been training with real, unloaded weapons until now for Savannah's sake. This time Cameron decided the paintball guns would be the safest to test for accuracy. "You're down to two minutes and thirty seconds. I would suggest you run." She looked up at John with a blank expression to let him know she wasn't joking. He didn't waste any more time. He took off with his own gun filled with yellow paint and disappeared into the trees.

Cameron turned her attention to Savannah. "What is our mission?"

"To find and terminate John Connor," she recited. "But why am I shooting John?"

Cameron tossed the empty can aside and checked over her weapon. "You have to learn how we work." She looked at Savannah and briefly flashed her eyes blue. "I might be different now, but I wasn't always different. I was built to kill humans… to kill John. The others are built to kill humans. You have to learn how we work, how we hunt. When you understand us, you can predict our moves. Someday you might find yourself in a situation like this. You might have a terminator hunting you. You'll have an advantage if you know how we work."

Savannah stared down at the ground, and her elevated adrenaline levels told Cameron she frightened the girl.

"Savannah… you don't have to ever be afraid of me. I'll never hurt you, or John."

Savannah looked up at Cameron and whispered. "But what if the bad metals come again?"

Oh. Cameron tilted her head and regarded the child. "Then I'll protect you… and John."

"Promise?"

Cameron stood up and switched to thermal scan. "Promise."

* * *

XXX

John ran through the woods, zigzagging back and forth for the better part of an hour and a half, looking for a place to hide. It was a hard task, seeing as it was ten o'clock at night and nearly pitch black in the denser part of the woods. He was extremely careful not to touch anything, lest he leave a thermal trail behind. Trees weren't safe to climb anyway, as once you were caught, there wasn't any way to escape. At least none that were easy and fast enough to evade a terminator.

Terminators had the advantage at night. They would most likely be using night vision and thermal scan to detect movement. Humans had terrible night vision. It would do John no good to hide in an extremely dark area where he himself couldn't see anything.

He stumbled into a small clearing the previous owners had created. A small hunting cabin was tucked in the trees at the other end, and John ran straight for it. He pushed through the door and pulled the small flashlight out of his belt. Guarding the light with his hand, he quickly looked around at the few things left behind. Most of the stuff was useless. A couple empty cans full of nails, some firewood, a few rusty knives, and an old heavy coat.

He ran out of the cabin and back into the trees. He wouldn't hide inside. The terminator would expect him to, and therefore, it would most likely be the first place it would look.

The goal was to make it back to the house, to base, without getting caught. He had to lead the machine deep into the woods and then double back the long way. You sure as hell didn't want to have to fight a terminator, alone, in the woods, with a wimpy useless gun as your only weapon. Especially a terminator who only gave you a three-minute head start. The only thing helping him was the fact that he knew Savannah wouldn't be able to move as fast, so Cameron would have to move at her pace. This time, it gave him a speed advantage that he would gladly take. Not that it would help him much.

So he kept moving through the dark as quickly, quietly, and safely as he could, every once in a while stopping to listen and wait.

* * *

XXX

Cameron stood under the cover of shadows, peering between the trees into the clearing. She knew she wasn't that far behind John, as she cheated and carried Savannah piggyback style through the woods. She knelt down carefully and let the girl slide off her back. Holding a finger up to her lips, she motioned with her hand around the clearing.

It was dark, but Savannah's eyes had adjusted and she was able to see enough with the faint moonlight spilling through the treetops. She nodded in understanding and followed Cameron through the trees around the clearing. She tried her best not to make any sound with her feet, but knew she was utterly failing. Cameron didn't scold her though. She just kept walking, her head constantly moving back and forth as her eyes scanned the area for any sign of life.

They made their way closer to the tiny cabin and Cameron motioned for her to crouch down. "Are we going inside?" Savannah whispered as quietly as possible.

Cameron considered it for a moment. Another terminator would surely spend the time to check inside, but she knew John was smarter than that. She wouldn't waste her time.

But then again… he could also be banking on that knowledge. He might be assuming that she wouldn't waste her time, knowing he knew better than to choose such a hideout, and could very well be hiding inside.

Her mission was to find and terminate John Connor. She would do what she had to do to complete that mission.

She finally shook her head and motioned for Savannah to come closer. She whispered into the child's ear.

"Trust me."

Savannah only managed to nod once before Cameron's hands were firmly covering her mouth, and she heard the strangest sound she had ever heard Cameron make.

Cameron began to cry.

* * *

XXX

John didn't get very far from the cabin when he noticed a strange sound. In fact, it wasn't a sound at all, actually. It was the sound of silence through the woods. There was no scurrying of small animals through the brush, and even the bugs seemed to quiet down.

He quickly ducked down behind a wide tree and brought his gun up at the ready. He knew she was here, he felt it in his bones. How she got there that fast was beyond him, but he was screwed either way.

He crouched in place listening so hard he feared his ears would start to bleed. When he heard the next sound, a shiver ran down his spine.

It was Savannah, and she was crying.

* * *

XXX

"CAMERON! JOHN! Where are you?" Cameron continued to sob as she cried out in Savannah's voice. The girl was still in her arms, staring at her in shock. She knew what Cameron was, but she had never really seen, or heard, such a display from her. Maybe it just wasn't really… well, _real_ until she heard her own voice coming from her.

She turned and looked around the clearing, expecting to see John come running. When he didn't, she was a little disappointed. "How come he's not coming to help me?" she whispered.

Cameron narrowed her eyes into the darkness. "Because he knows better. We have to do a better job."

* * *

XXX

John crouched behind the tree, warring with his conscience. Listening to Savannah cry for help was harder than he imagined. He knew that it was likely it was just a trick. It was probably just Cameron trying to urge him out of hiding.

On the other hand, what if Cameron had for some reason left Savannah behind? Maybe she misjudged the kid's abilities and left her to wander on her own? It would explain how she had got here so fast. If she had, Savannah could really be walking through the woods alone. It was dark, and very dangerous for her to be out there.

He couldn't chance leaving her out there by herself. Could he? He heard his mother's voice in his head repeat over and over "you're the only one that matters." If it wasn't Savannah, he was surely risking his life to find out. If it was the kid, he was still risking his life to find her, as surely Cameron could hear the girl crying. But it was only training, wasn't it?

And surely Cameron would then go after her, wouldn't she? She'd help her. So he didn't have to give up his hiding spot and risk his 'life', right?

But what if she didn't get her in time? There were wild animals in the woods that were extremely dangerous. Or maybe… she'd use the girls crying to-

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a blood-curdling scream that no machine could imitate. He took no more time to decide, and instantly took off running.

* * *

XXX

Sarah stared at the phone on the table. Maybe Derek was right. Maybe she was being way too overprotective. But she hadn't spoken to her son in three days. A lot could happen in that amount of time.

She refused to call or text Cameron. John would just find out about that and take it as another way she was checking up on him and being an 'over-protective ninny' as he called her.

She reached out and began spinning the phone on the table. She was his mother; she was allowed to be over-protective, wasn't she? It's not like they have normal lives. Normal kids didn't have killer robots hunting them down when they 'fly the nest' so to speak.

She picked up the phone and flipped it open. Screw it.

* * *

XXX

John ran towards the sound of the scream and ended up back at the small clearing. He ducked down beside the south-facing wall and scanned the darkness as best he could. He couldn't hear or see anything, and that scared the shit out of him.

One, if Savannah was truly hurt, the fact he couldn't hear her anymore meant nothing good. Two, if it was all a trick, he just walked into a trap and was ultimately doomed.

He took short, shallow breaths, trying not to even breathe loudly as he watched the shadows for any hint of movement.

"John?"

His heart stopped and he immediately jumped and aimed his gun at the voice that came from his right. Savannah stepped closer to him and he could see her small form in the faint moonlight.

"Oh, Savannah," he whispered, and motioned with his hand to quiet down. "Are you all right?"

The sound of his cell phone suddenly ringing in his pocket made them both jump as the annoying tune echoed through the trees. He yanked it out of his pocket and quickly looked down to silence it.

His mother, of course. He pressed the ignore button as fast as he could, but it was too late. A pink paintball splattered across his chest. He looked up in surprised when he felt another shot hit him in the back.

* * *

XXX

Sarah growled when after only one and a half rings the phone call went straight to voicemail.

"How dare that boy ignore my call!"

* * *

XXX

**Stay tuned... I don't know for how long, but eventually, chapter 3 will come... Hope you enjoyed! :D  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to all my readers, and anyone who has reviewed so far, I very much appreciate it. I know so far this story isn't very dark, but if you haven't figured out already, I'm not exactly known for doom and gloom ;) It will eventually get into all sorts of traditional terminator badassness, but just consider it right now as the calm before the storm. Oh, and part if this was actually meant to be a halloween oneshot for irony of fate, but I never got the chance to finish it. Rather than throwing it out, I just incorporated it into this chapter. If anyone is into the paranormal, you'll 'get it'. **

* * *

John raised his hands in the air in surrender and slowly turned around. He was surprised to see that Cameron was actually a lot farther away than he assumed. Damn cheating cyborg.

"You win. I surrender to you, oh mighty gorgeous and deadly."

"Hey, I shot you first!"

John turned back to see one pissed-off little redhead. "Okay, fine. I surrender to both of you, oh mighty gorgeous, deadly… and cheating ladies."

"It's not cheating. It's using all of your resources," Savannah said cheekily with a smirk.

He turned back to a quickly approaching Cameron. "Oh, is that what you're calling it now? Because last time I checked, we weren't – Hey!" He bit his tongue and grunted when he was suddenly grabbed by the front of his shirt and pressed up against the wall of the old cabin. "Whoa, babe, I know these war games get me all hot and bothered too, but don't you think we ought to-"

"That was a very stupid move, John. You know better than that."

John raised an eyebrow at Cameron's tone. She most definitely wasn't playing around. His own face fell serious to match hers as they stared each other down.

"I do know better than that," he muttered. "In a real situation…" He stopped talking and glanced over at Savannah. This wasn't a conversation they should be having in front of the kid. She didn't need to hear that in a real situation, he'd have to leave her to die before risking his life. At least, that's what he should do. Whether he would or not, he quite honestly couldn't say.

Cameron seemed to catch the clue and eased up on him. But then she smirked slightly, and John knew he was in trouble even before he felt himself being tossed twenty feet away.

He landed hard on the ground and rolled to break the fall. Breathless, he scrambled to get up quickly. He turned around to face his approaching opponent. Luckily he saw the fist just in time for his brain to register. He neatly ducked under her swinging arm and went in for a strike of his own. He punched her in the stomach right under what would be her rib cage, and with a back swing of his leg, knocked her down to the ground.

She hit the ground with a thud and immediately sprang back up. They stared each other down in silence. John's hands clenched into fists and his muscles tensed, ready to spring into action.

With one quick punch they were off. John met each of her strikes with a swift block and a retaliating blow of his own. Savannah watched from the edge of the clearing in awe. They were so fast she almost couldn't keep up with who was attacking who. The clouds had disappeared and allowed the moonlight to shine down on them. The mix of shadows and pale skin reflecting in the light made the scene almost seem surreal. John was starting to sweat profusely, even with the coolness of the night. She could see the beads of sweat shining on his face. Cameron of course looked as if she wasn't exerting any effort at all.

They sped up, and suddenly, Savannah caught a glimpse of metal gleaming in the moonlight. Her eyes widened as she saw Cameron swing at John with a blade.

John caught it though, and before Savannah could even figure out what happened, the blade was suddenly in his hands and the fighting stopped.

The couple stood so close, their chests were almost touching. John's was heaving, completely out of breath as he was, while Cameron stared back at him seemingly completely relaxed. Suddenly, John jumped back as if she had bit him, and looked down at his hand. Savannah followed his gaze and gasped. "Cameron!"

Calmly, Cameron pulled the blade out of her abdomen and stared at it curiously. There was only a small amount of blood on the blade, much less than would have been for a human. She looked up at John, but instead of anger or accusation marking her features, she smiled.

"You're getting better, John."

He remained speechless, just staring at her in shock as she bent over to wipe the blade in the grass. She tucked the knife in her pocket before standing back up and closing the distance between them.

"John?" He wasn't looking at her face. He was looking at her stomach, where he could see a moderate amount of blood soaked into her shirt.

"I… I didn't even realize. I just… I don't know. I'm sorry. I wasn't-"

"John," she said, this time more as a command than a question. It stopped his rambling and he finally met her eyes. "What's rule number one?"

He blinked. "Don't hold back."

"Don't hold back," she repeated. "You did what you were supposed to do."

"But…" he shook his head and looked back down at his hand. It was true, that was the name of the game. He wasn't supposed to hold back. He was supposed to attack her with everything he had. She, of course, barely exerted any effort. She held back her blows, rarely hitting him even hard enough to leave a bruise. Even her blocks were soft and easy. The risk of hurting him was too high with her greater strength.

The sparring exercises weren't supposed to simulate him fighting a terminator in hand-to-hand combat. That of course would never happen. But with lack of a proper human sparring partner, Cameron adjusted.

That's not to say John couldn't hold his own, though. He had actually surprised her when he managed to stab her. They had never used a weapon before when sparring, and Cameron had only decided to use it a split second before she pulled it out of her pocket. She knew she'd be able to pull back before inflicting damage to him, so for her, there was no concern. It wasn't as if he could inflict serious damage to her either, so she didn't quite understand why he seemed so upset.

"Cameron…" Savannah reached out and touched her hand, staring at the blood spot on her shirt. "Are you okay?"

Cameron tore her eyes away from John's unreadable expression and looked down. "I'm fine. You know it can't hurt me."

Without asking, John reached out and grabbed the front of Cameron's shirt, gently tugging it out of her waistband. He lifted it up and aimed his flashlight on the wound. Just like she said, it really wasn't that bad; just a slit where the knife went in. It wasn't bleeding out either.

"You see? I'm fine, John."

He cleared his throat and mumbled another apology as he pulled her t-shirt back down.

"Does it hurt?" Savannah asked, more intrigued than grossed out by the minimal amount of blood.

Cameron was intently studying John's reaction, confused as to why he still seemed so distressed. "No, it doesn't hurt. It'll be healed by tomorrow," she answered offhandedly.

"Good," Savannah answered. "Can you guys kiss and make up then already? I wanna go home. It's cold out here, and I'm tired."

John shook his head as if to clear it. "Yeah sorry. I'm just tired myself, I guess." He walked back over to the cabin where his paintball gun had been left forgotten. Not hearing anyone following, he turned back to the girls still standing in place, staring at him with less than happy expressions.

_Oh God, what the hell did I do now? Savannah looks like she's about to kick my ass, and Cameron… shit, she looks sad. I know that blank expression. What did I… Oh. Right. Damn it, John, you're a goddamn idiot._ He growled at his inner monologue and walked straight back to Cameron. He dropped his gun back on the ground and reached his hands up to cup her face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking straight and honestly into her eyes. "You win, fair and square." He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. Kiss and make-up was a rule of theirs, where a handshake would have been sufficient between mere friends. It made sure there were never any hard feelings left between them. Training was training, and it was left on the field.

He pulled away and kissed her once more on the forehead before suddenly leaning down and grabbing Savannah in a bear hug. "Stop giving me that evil look, will ya? It's scarier than Cameron's!" He kissed the giggling girl on the cheek before picking up his paintball gun again. "All right, _now_ are we ready to go? I'm freaking exhausted! If we're lucky, maybe Cameron will let us sleep in tomorrow." He winked at Savannah for good measure.

"I always let you sleep in," Cameron defended. She pulled off her leather jacket and held it up for Savannah to slide her arms through.

"Nine o'clock is not sleeping in," John argued. He watched Savannah put on the jacket gratefully, and realized he was surprised at such a maternal gesture. He was even more surprised when she hoisted her up onto her back and carried her through the woods. Savannah wasn't a little kid anymore, and was only about 6 inches shorter than Cameron now. While he knew with her strength the extra weight didn't bother his fiancée, he was sure it still had to be slightly awkward to carry her. Even though Cameron herself was a bit heavier than the average girl her size, it wasn't as if she tipped the scales.

He thought about that the whole way back to the house.

* * *

XXXXX

Derek hesitantly tapped on the doorframe of Sarah's bedroom. He knew she was agitated, and disturbing her was probably a dangerous thing to do, but he was going to attempt to be polite.

"Hey I uh, I'm going out for a little bit. Just wanted to know if you needed anything."

Sarah looked up from her cell phone and lifted her hands in the air. "What could I possibly need that you or Dani haven't gotten me the last four times you've gone out today?"

_An attitude adjustment. Tampax. Bitch-Be-Gone spray._ Derek figured his immediate choice responses wouldn't exactly help the situation, and decided on a more gentlemanly approach.

"Okay, you know what? Get your shit and let's go. You're coming out with me." He grabbed her hand before she could use it to find a gun and pulled her out of the room. "You're miserable, it's driving me crazy, and I've just about had enough of it!"

Sarah was too shocked to think of anything to say. She dumbly allowed herself to be pulled into the living room, and stared blankly as he shoved her jacket into her arms and ushered her out the front door.

"Where the hell are we going?" she asked, obeying his silent command to climb in the passenger seat of the truck.

"It doesn't matter. Just get in, buckle up, and let's go already."

She blinked at his tone and fastened her seatbelt quietly. She'd later blame it on all the painkillers she was on, but it took ten minutes before she finally seemed to break out of her trance.

"Reese, if you don't tell me where the fu-" She was cut off when his large hand immediately covered her mouth.

"Please, I was actually starting to enjoy your company. Don't ruin it, okay?" He hesitantly removed his hand, not sure if she'd continue arguing, or worse… bite him. "Look, we're just going out to dinner, is that all right with you?"

Sarah stared at him as if he had grown another head. "Dinner? Are you serious?"

Derek shrugged and forced himself not to fidget under her glare. "Yeah, why not?"

"I can think of a million and one reasons why not, the least of which one of us is on the FBI's most wanted list."

Derek rolled his eyes and lifted one hand off the steering wheel in resignation. "It's a big city. I figure we can get away with it for one night." He kept his eyes on the road, careful not to look in her direction.

Sarah shook her head and resolutely looked out her own window. "Whatever…" she mumbled under her breath. "Nothing ridiculous, all right? It's not like this a date or anything."

Derek snorted. "A date? With you? Yeah, right."

* * *

XXXXXXX

"Good evening, ma'am, sir. Table for two?"

Derek smiled and nodded at the host, and followed him to their table. He took Sarah's arm in what appeared to be a loving gesture and lead her along.

"I thought I said nothing ridiculous," Sarah grumbled under her breath, yanking her arm out of his grasp.

"Where the hell did you think I was going to take us, Kentucky Fried Chicken? Get a grip, it's not like they make you wear a tie and jacket here or something." They reached their table and he pulled a chair out for her. "Have a seat… honey." He ended with an exaggerated smile.

Cutting Derek's balls off in public wasn't an option, so Sarah settled for fixing him with a stare as she sat down in the fancy chair. The waiter came with a basket of warm bread and offered them a glass of wine. She stared at Derek the entire time grinding her teeth, only tearing her eyes away to give the waiter a less than convincing smile.

"Chill out Sarah, please. Having dinner with me can't possibly be the worst thing you could be doing this evening."

He was right, of course. She could be at home eating peanut butter and jelly.

"Why are you doing this?" She finally asked, unable to focus on her menu.

"I told you. You were miserable and it was pissing me off. Isn't that a good enough reason?" He kept a small smile on his lips to let her know he wasn't just being a complete asshole.

"How long have you been with us, and it only just now started bothering you?" Without realizing it, her own lips worked their way into an answering smile.

Derek laughed and picked up his wine glass, saluting her with it before bringing it to his lips. He set it back down on the table, now only half full, and gave her shrug. "No, I just thought… well, I know you don't really get to do this often. And, well…"

He shifted in his seat, and Sarah could have sworn he looked embarrassed. He cleared his throat and continued. "Well, I've never been able to do this." He passed his hand over the table and trained his eyes back on his menu. "I just thought I'd give it a try, before I leave again."

Sarah was staring at him in silence. The reality of what he was saying hit her hard. This wasn't the old Derek who slept around behind their backs. This Derek stood by them, always coming home at night, and never disappearing without telling someone where he was going. He spent nearly his entire life in a post-apocalyptic world. Eating out at a three-star restaurant wasn't a luxury he had. Wait…

"Leave? What do you mean 'leave'? Where are you going?" She didn't mean for her voice to sound almost panicked, and blushed slightly when she heard it crack.

The waiter interrupted them to take their orders, and Derek waited for him to leave before turning back to his dinner companion. "Winston is still out there, and he's obviously not working alone. I've got to keep looking. We can't leave him out there to try that stunt again."

Sarah pushed her hair away from her face and studied her fork closely. "I understand, but…" She cleared her throat and gazed at the table next to them.

Derek wasn't quite sure what her problem was. He had thought it was all common sense. "Dani is leaving as well. She's more of a… well; let's just say a strong individual personality. We're going our mostly separate ways, of course. I think we'd kill each other if we didn't." Derek chuckled, but the humor was lost when he caught the less than amused look on Sarah's face. "Ahem, anyway… We're just going to stay in contact. Safer that way, ya know? You should go back to John. It's not safe to be alone. Especially for you, in this place."

Sarah stared down at the buttered roll on her plate, slowly digesting everything he said. She shook her head slowly. "No. I can't go. Not yet, at least."

Derek looked around the room uncomfortably. "What do you mean? They're expecting us sooner or later. You can't stay where we are. We've already stayed too long, you know that."

Sara sighed and took a long drink of her wine before answering. "He needs time away from me, Derek. I know that. I can see that." She idly unfolded her napkin onto her lap. "There are things he needs to learn. Things I can't teach him."

"So?" Derek asked incredulously. He placed his fists on the table and leaned forward. "There have always been things you can't teach him. What's so damn different now? This isn't about him not calling you every half an hour, is it?"

"No, it's not about phone calls," she said heatedly. She sat back in her chair and stared intently at the tablecloth. She couldn't… she wouldn't ever admit that she didn't want to feel like a third wheel. She'd always been in charge; the one calling the shots. Now though… Well, she couldn't really say that John was in charge. No, not yet. Right now, Cameron was in the lead. She was the teacher, preparing John for what he must soon do. It was the job Sarah had spent the last two decades doing. What she gave her entire life up for. Now, without her permission, she handed that job over to a cyborg. And what hurt the most, was that if she was honest with herself, she knew it was right and best thing for her son.

"I'm going with you," she said suddenly, startling Derek who'd been staring at a nearby waitress's behind. He blinked a few times and trained his eyes back on her.

"What? No, you can't just leave John like that. What are you thinking?"

Sarah rolled her eyes and picked up her glass of wine again. "I'm thinking I'm tired of playing this waiting game. I'm thinking my son is about as safe as he can be right now, with or without me. I'm thinking I've been way too soft lately, and apparently slowly losing my damn mind. I'm going with you. I need to get back in the fight. Sitting around watching my son play house with a Terminator isn't exactly going to be productive… or help my sanity." She finished her wine and set the glass back down on the table. "That is… if you don't mind me going with you. I could just go myself. I've done the solo gig for the better part of twenty years just fine."

Derek didn't say anything. He sat quietly playing with his bread, contemplating the pros and cons of working alone versus with Sarah Connor. Their meals came and the subject was dropped completely as they both focused on the best food they had in ages. Stealing bites from each other's plates, and finishing a bottle of wine between them, to an outsider it would have looked like they were just another happy couple enjoying an evening out… especially when they mutually agreed it would make sense to go all the way and share the hot fudge brownie ice cream mountain dessert. Of course, the outsiders would have been half wrong with their assumption.

It was several hours later when full and slightly tipsy, they were in the truck and on their way back home. It was a silent ride, both passengers focusing on their own internal thoughts. Derek pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, but didn't make any move to get out of the truck. Sarah noticed, and sat awkwardly staring at him, not sure if she should get out or if he wanted to say something.

Derek continued to stare out the windshield for a long moment, before finally turning to meet Sarah's gaze. "Can you be ready to leave by morning?"

She blinked and nodded slowly. "I can be ready in fifteen minutes."

Derek nodded as well and looked back out the window. "Call John again. Pack your bags. I'll get the garage."

"I'll get the guns."

* * *

XXXXXXX

Seventy-one degrees Fahrenheit. "Acceptable" according to John's standards.

She stood at the east-facing window in the living room and gazed out into the darkness. In fact, she stood in complete darkness anyway. She was use to it, and didn't need the lights on to see. She scanned the shadows along the tree line, seeing nothing that was a threat.

A floorboard suddenly creaked behind her and she immediately turned around, expecting to see John or Savannah sneaking up on her.

No one was there. She glanced around the room and listened carefully until she was certain she was alone. Turning back to the window, she began contemplating other matters of immediate importance.

One or both of them needed to find a job. It would look too suspicious that two young people with a child didn't work. Cameron surmised that it would look least suspicious, having just purchased a home, if both of them would find employment. The town was small though, and they would need to stay as close to the immediate area as possible. Savannah attended the local elementary school. If something were to happen, they couldn't be working in the bigger town farther away. They would need to find something among the local businesses… John would be less than thrilled.

Sudden movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye, and she quickly turned her head. She narrowed her eyes when once again there was nothing there. She walked slowly towards the dark hallway, keeping her footsteps as quiet as possible. She scanned the hallways up and down, looking for any movement or heat signatures. There was absolutely nothing there.

Head tilted, she turned back to the living room but stopped immediately in her tracks. The fine hairs on her arms lifted, and she looked down at the goose bumps appearing across her skin.

She was cold, and didn't understand why. The air conditioner wasn't currently running, and all the windows were closed. She lifted her hand higher in the air, trying to detect a draft, but there was nothing.

She took a step further into the room, her hands held away from her sides in an attempt to detect the cause of the anomaly.

Sixty-eight… sixty-seven… sixty-six… The temperature continued to drop with abnormal speed. She checked that the AC unit was off, and all the windows were locked tight. As she was tugging the last curtain closed, something brushed against her arm.

She spun around on the spot, not finding anything, and not comprehending what she was processing. Deciding she needed a second opinion, she headed up the stairs. She heard the sound of John's muffled voice, but couldn't make out what he was saying. Wet footprints on the hardwood floor lead from the bathroom to their bedroom, and she pushed the half-closed door open wider to find John clad in only his boxers, and a bath towel draped over his shoulders.

"Yes, mom. No, mom. Ugh, I told you already we're fine. No, seriously we… oh would you stop? Please? I answered this time, didn't I? No, we haven't. Well how the hell should we know? Look, if you're so worried, why don't you- I wasn't having an attitude; I was just – What tone? I don't have a… okay, fine! CAMERON! Oh!"

He jumped slightly, surprised to see her already standing in the doorway.

"Yes, John?"

He held out his phone to her. "My mother wants to talk to talk to you. Apparently I'm being 'disrespectful'," he mocked.

Cameron took the phone from him, but instead of putting it to her ear, she leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. "By the way," she whispered when she pulled away. "You did have a tone."

She ignored the offended look on his face and finally answered the phone. "Yes, Sarah?"

"Smack him."

She tilted her head, unsure how to respond. She glanced at John who raised an eyebrow at her obvious confusion.

"I didn't hear contact yet. Smack him already."

Without further comment, she switched the phone to her other hand and smacked John across the back of his head.

"OW!"

"Thank you." Sarah smiled in satisfaction. Cyborg or not, Cameron had a wry sense of humor that matched her own. Their personalities often shared an uncanny resemblance, and more than once – though she'd never admit it - she wondered if Cameron hadn't purposely been programmed like that.

"You're welcome. Is that all, Sarah?" She smiled at John who was rubbing the back of his head and forcing a scowl on his face.

"No. Put the phone on speaker. We all need to talk."

* * *

**Okay, I'm going to apologize now for the lameness of this chapter. There are some loose ends here that will be addressed in the next chapter, so don't worry. Your questions will be answered.**


	4. Chapter 4

**And yet another. It's not the longest chapter ever, but it's good enough for a double dose of Jameron this week :)**

* * *

John lay on the bed with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling tiles above him. He was exhausted, but he wasn't able to sleep. His brain kept bouncing from one thing to another, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn't shut it off.

"John?"

Cameron sat carefully down on the bed beside him, holding a mug of some sort of steaming liquid. "I made you hot chocolate."

John turned his head and gave her a faint smile. "Is this your special spiked recipe, or just plain hot chocolate?"

She looked down at the mug in her hands. "It's the kind with marshmallows."

John chuckled and sat up. "Fair enough, I guess it doesn't really matter." He took the mug from her hands and carefully took a sip. "Mmm thanks." He looked her up and down carefully. "How's your stomach? You're really all right, aren't you? I mean, I didn't…"

Cameron took the mug back from his hands. "I'm fine, John. Promise." She took her own sip of the liquid, never taking her eyes from his. "You have to understand… You must train as if it's the real thing. If you don't give it your all in training, you won't be able to do it in real life. A second of time wasted in hesitation can be a second your opponent takes advantage of you. You need to learn to react, and you need to learn to trust your instincts. That's what you did out there tonight."

"Yeah, I get it… I just don't have to like the fact I shoved a knife up to the hilt into my girlfriend's stomach."

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "No, you don't have to like it. But you do have to get over it. I'm not exactly as fragile as... a normal girl."

Acknowledging defeat, John made a goofy face at her and grabbed the mug. "Give me that. It's mine. Go get your own." He smirked and took a large sip of cocoa, but suddenly started coughing and set the mug on the nightstand beside the bed. "Ugh, too much rum sweetheart. Nice try, though."

"Sorry," she apologized, and sat back against the headboard beside him. "Are you upset with Sarah?"

"Huh?" He wiped his mouth and gave her a confused look. "No, I'm not upset. I'm worried about her, but not upset. I think…" He shrugged and scooted closer to her. "Well, I think it'll be good for her. We've been running so long, I think she misses the hunt. She really doesn't like to feel helpless." He picked the mug back up again and this time took a smaller, more careful sip before passing the it back to her. "Derek will be good for her."

Cameron tilted her head as she accepted the mug. "I don't understand."

John rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Oh, come on. This Derek is different than the other one. Older. Less selfish or something."

"He comes from a different time line. He grew up with us together as a couple. Such an alliance with machines would and will make a huge difference in the attitudes of soldiers."

John cleared his throat and scratched his head. "Yeah, sure, of course. But my point was… he's definitely more my mother's type now."

"Oh…" Cameron processed that and gave him a skeptical look. "They don't seem to get along very well. Derek annoys Sarah… and vice versa."

"Oh no no no…" John smiled and shook his head. "They have the hots for each other. That's just their way of showing it." He bumped Cameron's shoulder and took back the cocoa, finishing it off. "Think about it. Remember when I used to treat you like shit?"

"Vividly," Cameron deadpanned, causing John to blink. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. "Yeah, well… that was all because I was completely and irrevocably in love with you. I was just in denial."

"I see," she muttered. "So Sarah and Derek are just in denial of their feelings for each other?"

"Exactly," John nodded. "They're bound to hook up eventually… if they haven't already."

"Interesting," Cameron said softly. She turned to look at him, causing John's pulse to skip from the intensity of her gaze at such a close distance. "If Derek and Sarah 'hooking up' would result in procreation, their child would be both your sibling and your cousin."

John's mouth opened and closed, and a look of pure disgust settled over his face. "I might have to kill you for that comment."

"But it's the truth."

"Subject change!" John held his hands up in the air to stop her. "Let's talk about… paint. Yes, I think we should paint the living room. What do you say? A nice bright yellow? Soft green maybe?"

"That reminds me," Cameron interrupted. "I detected a sudden and drastic decline in temperature while in the living room earlier."

"Wait, what?" John scrunched his face as the conversation train derailed.

"I was in the living room watching out the window, when the temperature suddenly began to get colder."

"Ooookay… and? So what?"

"The temperature dropped six degrees in less than a minute, without explanation."

John shrugged and shook his head. "That's weird, but I really don't know what to tell you. Are you sure there wasn't a reason for it? I mean, this place is old as hell. It's drafty and-"

"I saw something."

John sat up straighter and gave her his full attention. "Well, that's different. What did you see?"

Cameron hesitated slightly. "I don't know. I detected movement, but when I turned around, I saw nothing."

John stifled a yawn and rubbed his face. "It was probably just shadows. Or some bugs or dust or something." _Yeah, who are you trying to convince? Her, or yourself?_

"Something touched my arm."

John barely kept himself from groaning. "Are you sure? It could have just been a spider web. You were probably down there wandering around in the dark, weren't you? Not even you would be able to see a few threads of spider web brushing across your arm."

"It wasn't a spider web. My tactile sensors don't lie. It was much larger, and colder."

The rum and exhaustion was starting to catch up to him. He tugged the covers down and crawled underneath. "Well, okay then. I'll call the Ghostbusters in the morning. And stop watching all those late night paranormal TV shows. You're freaking yourself out."

Cameron climbed off the bed and tugged off her jeans. "I can't freak myself out."

"Well, do me a favor and stop freaking _me_ out then, will you?" he grumbled. "I'm about to ask you to make sure the Boogeyman isn't hiding under my bed."

Cameron closed the curtains over the window and turned off the bedside lamp. She turned to head towards the door but was stopped when John suddenly grabbed her wrist in a tight hold.

"I don't think so."

Not needing any further commands, Cameron lifted the covers and crawled into bed beside John, who immediately wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

"Thanks. Don't know where you think you were going anyway."

"To the bathroom to shower," Cameron answered. "Where else would I be going in my underwear?"

John chuckled. "There was a time you would have gone on patrol in your underwear and not have known the difference."

"Are you sure about that?"

John opened his eyes and looked at her through the darkness.

"Apparently not."

XXX

_Two months later._

XXX

Cheery holiday music played over the speakers as the few patrons in the small café chatted quietly with their lunch companions or silently read the daily newspaper. A large, ornately decorated Christmas tree greeted customers in the front window. The staff all wore gaudy pins with little flashing Christmas lights, and a few wore Santa hats or reindeer antlers.

Three women, all middle aged, sat at window booth chatting over steaming mugs of coffee.

"You know, my son Randy's tour is coming to an end, finally. He said he should be home by Christmas!"

"Oh, that's just wonderful, Sandy!" Leslie smiled over the menu "I bet everyone is so excited, especially Kylie. I know those two were always close. Randy was such a protective brother."

"We're not telling her," Sandy smiled conspiratorially. "We're going to let her be surprised."

"Get out!" Leslie leaned over the table with wide eyes. "She's going to be thrilled!"

Sandy laughed. "I know! We can't wait to see her face."

"He was dating that Grayson girl before he left, wasn't he?" the third woman spoke up with a disapproving voice. "Are those two still…hmm?" She raised her eyebrows in question.

"Oh, no. Definitely not," Sandy shook her head. "She went off to college, slept around, got herself into a whole lot of mess."

"Well, that's good to hear. Well, not about that girl, of course," Linda corrected. "But she was not a good choice for him."

"Definitely," Leslie agreed. "Maybe now that he'll be home, he can spend some time looking for a new little lady."

"Well, there's not much to choose from around here," Sandy muttered. She put down her menu and folded her hands on the table. "He's even said so himself. I think that was part of the reason why he joined the army in the first place."

"Well, I don't know about that…" Leslie said quietly, looking at something across the room. The other two women followed her gaze, and sat slightly gawking at the petite waitress taking an order three tables away.

"Wow… who is she?"

"I don't know… quick, stop staring." Their eyes quickly turned to their menus as the woman approached their table with a smile.

"Are you ladies ready to order?"

"Oh yes, please." Sandy smiled as she quickly glanced at the woman's gold nametag. "I'd like a house salad with dressing on the side. An unsweetened iced tea with Splenda, and a slice of lemon"

"Very well, and you ladies?" The waitress turned her smile to her tablemates. Sandy covertly examined the girl while she took the other women's orders. She was lean and petite, with a bright smile. Her auburn hair was pulled up in a bun that revealed modest stud earrings. On her wrist she wore a brightly colored woven bracelet that seemed out of place, and on her hand…

"Did you see that rock on her finger?" Linda asked when the girl disappeared into the kitchen.

"Mmmhmm… someone's already laid claim on that one. A shame too, she looks like Randy's type."

"Yeah," Sandy agreed, barely paying attention. "There's something a little different about her though."

"Of course there is," Linda said. "She's not from around here."

The women chuckled as the door opened and the bells clanked together and jingled. They watched as a young man dressed in dirty gray mechanics coveralls walked in and took a seat at the bar.

"Well… isn't this a busy day," Leslie muttered. "The wind's bringing in all sorts of folk lately."

"He works at Jack's," Sandy said, speaking softly. "I saw him the other day when I took the car for an oil change."

"Yeah, we can read too. It's only screen printed across his back," Leslie snorted.

"Shut up, smartass."

The waitress came out from the kitchen and took notice of her new patron. She quickly changed direction and headed towards the other end of the counter, picking up a glass and filling it with soda on the way. She set the cup down in front of the man and leaned against the counter, speaking quietly.

"What did you do to those women over there in the booth?" John asked, taking a sip of his Mountain Dew.

"I took their lunch order."

"Well, duh. But they've been staring at you."

Cameron nonchalantly picked up a rag and pretended to wipe the counter. "The woman in the ugly pink shirt would like to set me up with her son, who I gather is returning from the military."

John snorted into his cup and shook his head. "So why did you call me over here, anyway? Do you want me to make out with you on the counter or something, scare them off? Oh, by the way, I have lunch orders for all the guys…" He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper with several orders scribbled on it in pencil.

Cameron took the note from his hands and let her eyes scan over the rest of the diner. "Look closely."

A bell rang in the kitchen and she disappeared through the doors before he had a chance to say anything else. He turned around on his stool and nonchalantly looked around the small diner. It was that slow time between lunch and dinner, so it wasn't very busy. He let his eyes track to the three women at the booth. Cameron was right. The woman's pink shirt was pretty ugly. It had some sort of gaudy design with beads and sequins that made him wonder how such a monstrosity could ever make it to the store. He tore his eyes away and glanced around at the rest of the patrons. There was a heavy police officer at a table reading a paper and eating what looked like two orders of cheese fries, and an old lady sitting at a far booth all by herself.

_Right_, John thought to himself. _This place is screwing with… oh you have got to be kidding me. _John mentally groaned and grabbing his soda, he climbed off his stool. He gave the three women a polite nod as he passed their table and headed straight for the farthest booth. He sat down across from a tall redheaded woman with a resigned sighed.

"Hello, Catherine."

The T-1001 looked up from the soup she had been idly swirling with her spoon. "Good afternoon, John. Thank you for coming."

"Yeah, sure. I can't stay long, I have to get back to work." He glanced towards the swinging double doors, hoping Cameron would come back out. "It's a little odd seeing you in this form again."

"Does it bother you?" she asked, the tone of her voice clearly indicating she didn't care one way or the other.

John shrugged. "No, was just curious." He took a sip of his soda and found his eyes once again tracking to the kitchen doors. "So… what brings you to this neck of the woods? I'm not even going to ask how you found us. Though, I'm really hoping it's not an indication of how easy it would be for Skynet to track us down."

Catherine pulled a large manila envelope out of her briefcase and slid it across the table. "There are a variety of items I needed to deliver to you, as well as some important matters we need to discuss."

Cameron finally appeared through the doors carrying an overloaded tray. She effortlessly carried it across the room and served the ugly shirt lady and her friends before approaching their table with John's lunch. Catherine watched her carefully as she set his sandwich and fries in front of him.

"Are you joining us?" John asked. He pleaded her with his eyes, hoping she'd notice and say yes.

"For a few minutes," she agreed, and slid onto the seat beside him.

"Very well," Catherine said. "There are a few things we really can't be discussing here, but I can give you the basic details. I had to go away for a while in search of the others."

"Others?" John asked. He squirted a liberal amount of ketchup over his fries and grabbed the saltshaker, which was promptly removed from his grasp by Cameron. He considered fighting her for it, but thought better of it and turned his full attention back to Catherine. "By others, are we talking Resistance?"

"In a way, yes," she said. "But not human."

John and Cameron glanced at each other before turning back to Catherine. "I think you're right. This is probably not a good conversation to be having here," John said. He looked down at his plate, not sure he had an appetite anymore.

"We can talk at home, tonight," Cameron suggested. "My shift ends in an hour. Savannah will be home soon after."

"Are you going to...?" John motioned with his hand at Catherine, indicating her current appearance.

"I'll change," she answered as she collected her things. "By the way… where are Sarah and Derek Reese?"

He shrugged and stuffed a French fry in his mouth. "Not sure, really. Haven't talked to her in… what, almost a week?" John gave Cameron a questioning look.

"Five days, four hours," Cameron supplied.

"Right. Anyway, they're out saving the world together. They probably have matching super hero costumes by now."

Both machines stared at him, obviously not comprehending his twisted humor.

John rolled his eyes. "Mom is doing what mom does best. And that means, I have absolutely no idea. She's out fighting Skynet and engaging in various sorts of illegal activities, and apparently loving every minute of it. She sounded pretty happy on the phone, didn't she?" Again he looked to his fiancée for confirmation.

Cameron didn't bother to answer. Instead, she stood up and collected Catherine's untouched soup. "This evening, six o'clock then."

Catherine nodded and stood up as well. "I will see you then."

John watched her leave the café and turned to speak to Cameron, but she was already walking through the kitchen doors. He looked down at his turkey sandwich and sighed.

"Just another Tuesday afternoon, right? Right."

* * *

**Two updates in a row? I know, I'm shocked myself. Don't expect this again though lol. Hope you enjoyed. Don't forget to leave a review :)**

**Oh, and yes, there was a line taken from Twilight. My little nod to Team Edward... aaaand I probably just lost a whole shitload of credibility :p**

**Also, I know everyone has lots of questions. Do me a favor... remember an entire story can't be told in a single chapter, and be patient... :)  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and continues to review my stories. It's difficult to find time to write these days, and you give me encouragement to get off my butt and write :) Also, thanks again everyone for your patience. I really wanted to get this out sooner so I could get to Christmas on time for Christmas, but that just didn't happen. I also don't know when I'll be able to finish that one either, since I'm seriously behind on work. So... anyway. Please continue to be patient. Here's chapter 5 :)**

**Note: The words in italics, as always in my stories, are most often the inner thoughts of the character in focus at the time. Quite often, they are flashbacks or dream sequences. Sorry to confuse anyone. FFnet doesn't allow proper editing for it. (The song lyrics in the beginning are italicized for just that reason- they're lyrics.)  
**

* * *

"_Oh baby baby, how was I supposed to know that something wasn't right here? Oh baby baby, I shouldn't have let you gooooooo… and now you're out of sight, yeah." _

Sarah sat in an armchair huddled under a pretty patchwork quilt, staring into the flames dancing in the fireplace. An overindulgence in beer led to an impromptu choir practice in the living room to the point she could barely hear the radio playing in the background. As much as the handful of resistance fighters sang off key, the light, happy atmosphere brought a smile to her face, despite the nauseating song choice.

"_Show me how you want it to be. Tell me baby cause I need to know now oh because, my loneliness is killing me. And I must confess, I still believe. When I'm not with you I lose my mind. Give me a siiiiiign… HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME!"_

Sarah chuckled and shook her head at their antics. Several of the men had decided to stand up and do their best Britney Spears dance impression. She took a sip of her hot cocoa and felt a hand gently placed on her shoulder.

"You're not the singing type?"

Sarah glanced up and smirked. "Are you kidding, Kas?"

The petite woman chuckled and sat down on a small ottoman beside her. "It's nice though, isn't it? Hearing these guys have such a good time. For most of them, it's the first real break they can remember. I just don't understand their choice in singing material."

Sarah studied the woman quietly, noting the fine lines that were appearing around her eyes, and the strands of gray that were starting to mingle among her chocolate colored locks. They were about the same age, Kassie perhaps slightly older. "And what about you?"

"Me? Nah, I prefer to listen. Never was into Britney anyway. I stuck to the boy bands in middle school." Kassie shrugged and leaned forward to place another log in the fire. "What time do you plan on leaving tomorrow?"

Kassie hadn't actually answered her question, but Sarah figured that was answer enough. "Early. It's a long trip home. Christmas is less than a week away, and I want to make sure I get there in time to spend it with my son."

Kassie nodded. "I understand. I just wish you guys could have stayed longer."

"Me too," Sarah replied, and was vaguely surprised to realize it was true. It was a new experience for Sarah to have a friend, a woman, with whom she could confide _everything_ to. There was no need to hide, no need for secrets with this woman who had fought in the very war Sarah was trying to prevent. The funny thing was, they never talked about it. They talked about normal, everyday things. What they were going to make for dinner, who they were going to make wash the dishes. Men. Sex, or rather, the lack thereof. Kids. Love. Getting old. Yet even with these normal subjects, it was a whole different experience knowing the other woman knew _exactly_ where she was coming from. Talking to a woman who understood the reality of raising kids with killer robots on the loose was a lot different than talking to a woman whose biggest child-rearing stress was going to PTA meetings.

"Well, I hope this snow lets up for you. It'll be a bitch to drive in if it doesn't."

Sarah glanced out the window at the large fluffy flakes that had been falling for the past three hours, and showed no signs of stopping. "Oh well, we have the truck. I'll make Derek drive."

"Oh dear, well in that case, you might want to cut him off. I think he's doing his best cheerleader impression right now."

Sarah turned her head and nearly dropped her mug. "Oh my God, the man has no dignity."

Kassie laughed and pointed to her own son. "At least he's not the one spanking Brooks over there."

Sarah covered her eyes and shook with silent laughter. "Yeah, but at least that's his thing." Kassie's son, who at 22 wasn't much older than John, was openly gay. That was another one of their late night conversations. Apparently the son who was marrying a cyborg won the "awkward things to tell people" award.

She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "I'm gonna get some sleep. Send the buffoon upstairs if he gets too out of control. He might injure something vital."

"Will do," Kassie nodded, and took the blanket from her. "Have a good night."

Sarah smiled in return and headed upstairs to the spare bedroom, which she had adamantly argued against and lost. She had insisted that the sofa was perfectly fine. There was no reason to give her any special treatment; but the soldiers had thought otherwise. They had threatened that if she chose to sleep on the couch rather than the offered bed, they would all sleep on the floor in the living room, and no one would sleep in the bed. Derek knew she was uncomfortable with all the special treatment, and he had thought it was just hilarious. Until she told him he'd be sleeping in the room with her.

It was just a whim, something she didn't think about before she said it. Technically, Derek outranked the other resistance soldiers there, so he got just as much respect as Sarah did, and he didn't like it so much either. At least, that's the excuse Sarah gave herself.

She crawled into bed and pulled the heavy comforter up under her chin. The curtains over the window were still pulled back, and Sarah gazed at the snow flakes that continued to fall. She thought about calling John, but he was a couple hours behind them and was probably busy "training", or whatever it was Cameron was doing with him.

She sighed and turned to stare at the ceiling. Two months already. It was the longest she'd ever been away from her son since she was in Pescadero. It was really hard at first, but after a while… well, she wouldn't say she didn't miss him. But it didn't make her so crazy to be separated from him. She called him a lot, of course, but he quickly got irritated at mommy always calling to "check up" on him. So she stopped calling him, and began calling Cameron almost everyday instead, making her promise not to tell John.

She heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs, and knew Derek must have decided to turn in early as well. She took a deep breath and sighed.

"_Are you sure about this?"_

_Derek just gave her a look and turned his attention back to the road. "Yes, I'm sure. What were you expecting, a five-star resort?"_

"_No, it's just that we've been driving for a few days and we've gotten lost six times, and you refuse to just stop and buy a GPS, and I'm seriously starting to doubt that you can even read a map, and..."_

"_And I'm about to swallow my gun if you don't shut up already," Derek groaned. "Look, we're not that far, and we're not going to be here for very long either. I just want to find out if anyone has heard anything, if Winston has found them, and check on the progress they're making."_

_He was right; it wasn't very far at all. About a half hour later they pulled up to an old ranch house. Derek cut the engine and they watched the screen door open and bang shut as a scruffy Mexican man walked out, a shotgun in his hands._

"_Oh, yeah… forgot to mention. I'm gonna need you to translate."_

_They both checked their own concealed weapons and slowly stepped out of the truck._

"_Good afternoon sir," Derek said politely, slowly taking a few steps towards the house._

"_Buenas tardes señor," Sarah followed suit. "Somos… uh…" she looked at Derek uncertainly. Who the hell was she supposed to tell this guy they were? Tourists? "Um, me llamo Sarah, y éste es- "_

_Derek rolled the sleeve of his flannel shirt up to reveal the barcode tattoo on his arm. "Major Derek Reese," he finished for her, causing Sarah to raise an eyebrow. This Derek had never told her the rank he held in John's army. _

_The man widened his eyes and immediately lowered his gun. "Ah, señor, I…" _

_Sarah watched as first recognition, then utter surprise crossed the man's face as comprehension of who she was dawned on him. _

_"La señora… Sarah Connor? ¡Dios mio! I'm very sorry, señora. Come in, come in!" He propped the shot gun up against the wall and opened the door for them to enter. "Alejandro, ¡ven aquí!"_

"_Well, someone's a celebrity," Derek muttered as he led Sarah into the house. She would never admit it, but his hand on her lower back was comforting as she walked into the dark, dusty living room and the man she assumed to be Alejandro appeared from the hallway._

They were only there for three days. Neither of the men spoke much English, so the majority of the time was spent in awkward silence, or with Sarah translating. She was just glad they didn't stay any longer. Tunnels that ran under the border. Drug trafficking operated by the Resistance. _It's good money, and weapons don't buy themselves_ was all Derek had to say about it. _"Does my son know about this?"_ And he just shrugged it off. _"From what I understand, it was his idea."_

They left early in the morning, and she refused to speak to him for most of the day. She wasn't really sure why she was mad at him, perhaps she just wasn't in the mood to talk. It wasn't until he pulled over and reached in the glove box for the map that she finally opened her mouth.

"_Where the hell are we going that you're lost already?"_

"_I'm not lost!" he growled as he flipped the map around three different ways. _

"_Whatever. Where are we going?"_

"_Here," he said, and pointed to the map._

_Sarah squinted and leaned closer. "West Virginia? Are you out of your damn mind?"_

"_No, I'm not. Lots of mines, lots of caves in that whole area. We're heading here. There should be a safe house set up there." He pointed to small town on the crease of the map before shoving it towards her and putting the truck back in gear._

_Sarah gazed at the map for a few minutes before turning her stare on Derek. "I thought you told me each of you were only told of one safe house location." He had explained that it was much safer that way. If any of them were captured, they'd only give up one location. However, each one of them knew the location of a different safe house. _

"_I did. That's where we're going now," he answered._

"_Then who told you about the one we were just at?"_

"_Cameron."_

"Sarah?" Derek peeked his head in the room when he received no answer from her after knocking on the door twice. "Oh, sorry. You didn't answer. I thought you were… I can, um…"

"It's fine," Sarah sighed. "I was just thinking."

"Uh oh…" He shut the door behind him and sat on the edge of the bed to untie his boots. "What about, or should I ask?"

"About how Cameron knows everything, and it's quite annoying."

Derek chuckled and turned around. "You sound jealous."

"I am jealous." Sarah grumbled. "It's not fair. My own son doesn't even ask for my opinion anymore. God, she could probably even convince him Santa Claus exists."

Derek rolled his eyes as he exchanged his jeans for a pair of sweats. "Sarah, no boy John's age wants his mother's opinion. And let's face it; any guy who has fallen that hard could be convinced of just about anything. All it takes is a fair amount of cleavage and a few other benefits and a man can be convinced the Earth is flat." He lifted up the covers on the other side of the bed and crawled underneath.

"Stay on your side of the bed. You know the drill. Imaginary line."

Derek grumbled and rolled onto his side. "Well don't hog the covers."

"Me? Excuse me! But who rolls up in the blankets like a damn burrito?"

"It's the only way I can be sure I'll get any blanket at all!"

"Get your feet on your side!"

"They are on my side!"

Sarah rolled onto her side with a huff and stared out the window. The room fell silent for several minutes, and she finally closed her eyes.

Until she suddenly smelled something so foul she was completely incapable of breathing.

"DEREK!"

The bed shook underneath them as Derek laughed.

XXXXXX

* * *

_Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic. _The clock on the wall seemed deafening to John's ears as he sat in the living room with liqui-Weaver.

_That's a good one. Liqui-Weaver. But she's not really a liquid. More like a malleable solid. Like… play-dough. Oh man, I should totally get Savannah some play-dough for Christmas. The whole Burger King food factory. That would be sweet. I hope Cameron likes what I got her. Of course she'll like it. I could give her Q-Tips and socks and she'd love it. No… that's not true. Maybe a few years ago it would have been true. No… not even then. But especially not now. She'd probably smile and thank me, then decide she needed to patrol 22 hours per day. _

John chuckled to himself and shook his head. _Like when I called her a nag. That was about the worst idea ever. And the most miserable four days of my life. Mom was happy though. I called her every day… I should call her. Oh, God, what should I get her for Christmas? I wonder if Cameron would just pick something out and… pssh yeah right John. She'd probably yell at you for being lazy and unthoughtful. What did I get her last year? _

John's gaze tracked to the ceiling as he thought hard trying to remember the year before. _I know I got Cameron purple nail polish, but… oh, yeah. Fuzzy slipper socks. Hm. I should probably do a lot better than that this year. Maybe…_

Catherine cleared her throat and pulled John out of his inner ramblings.

_Oops._ He glanced at the clock and sighed. A whole ten minutes had passed since Weaver had shown up. Cameron was at ballet with Savannah, but they should have been back by now.

"So… you said you were rounding up the machine resistance?" He leaned against the armrest of the couch and crossed his leg over his knee, hoping he looked more comfortable than he was. It wasn't that he was nervous, of course; it was just that the machine's demeanor tended to make one naturally uncomfortable. Like his third grade teacher, Ms. Shosky. His name was _always_ written in Mr. Sad Face, and she'd stare at him like he was doing something wrong, even when he was just sitting quietly.

Catherine, who had chosen to take the form of a young blonde woman, tilted her head in slight confusion. She had expected him to wait until Cameron returned, but it didn't really matter to her one way or the other. John was the one ultimately in charge, and anything Cameron needed to know, she would find out.

"Yes. Do you have the envelope I gave you earlier?"

"Oh, uh… yeah." He rubbed his neck as he disappeared into the kitchen. He'd actually forgotten about the envelope, and hadn't even opened it yet. He carried it back to the living room, glad it wasn't lick-sealed.

"As I told you before, when I came, I brought several others with me. Inside you'll find a list of names. These names are the identities of the people and positions we have infiltrated within the military."

John dumped the contents of the envelope out on the coffee table, and ignoring the stack of cash and other smaller items, found the list of names. There was way more than he expected, about a dozen actually.

"These names… were they human?"

Catherine glanced at the paper in his hands. "They were necessary."

John let the paper fall back to the table. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Necessary… you know, could you explain to me just why all this is really 'necessary'? I mean, what is it helping? Derek comes from a future with you in it. There's still a war, Skynet still exists, humans are still getting their asses kicked. It doesn't look like all this 'necessary' stuff is really helping much at all."

Completely unfazed, Catherine remained as composed as ever, of course. "Have you ever asked anyone how you go about becoming the leader of the human resistance?"

John was oddly still, having been caught off-guard by the question. In all honesty, it wasn't really something that he thought about. He was just brought up with the understanding that he would, in fact, lead the resistance. How he went about that, well…

"Surely you didn't think it was some sort of 'automatic' thing?"

John shrugged and tried his best not to blush. "No, but… well, I don't know."

If Catherine were human she would have sighed, and probably even shook her head. Instead, she chose to show no emotional reaction at all. "Without our infiltration, it would take years for you to take command of just a small faction of resistance, and decades to take command over all. You also need to have some sort of "in", per se. You need to know people. Oh, you could do it without, of course. There are ways. But the fact is, without our help, it would simply take way too long. With us having command in major branches of military, we can launch a better counter attack on Skynet. A better, smarter, faster attack. We can organize the human resistance faster, and hopefully… win faster."

John sat quietly, rubbing the stubble on his chin. What she said made sense, but there was just something… Something unsettling about it. Winning faster had its merits, of course. But what about him "taking charge" sooner? How soon was she talking about? If Judgment day happened tomorrow, would that mean people would have to buy into the idea of an 18 year old running the show?

"What if… what if all those years it would take me to naturally take command are necessary for people to follow me? In theory it makes sense. But what makes you think people will follow me now, this young? And I don't even know the first thing about leading an army."

Catherine tilted her head in a strikingly familiar fashion, but her face remained devoid of any emotion. "Throughout history, young children have ruled entire nations. Age is no matter; it's all in how you present yourself. If you're not confident in yourself, no one else will be confident in you." She watched his eyes track to the floor, and wondered again what the kid's hold-up was. "You can be a fine leader, John. I've already seen it. You've been raised to be a leader. You've been to the future, you know what is coming. Knowledge is power, John. You have that power. You just have to learn how to use it."

At that moment, the front screen door opened and slammed. Two sets of footsteps, one light, and one slightly heavier than you'd expect, marched down the hallway. The smaller ones continued up the stairs, while the heavier ones made their way into the living room and stopped behind the couch where John was sitting. A hand on the back of his neck, a quick reading, and then two arms were suddenly sliding over his shoulders to wrap around his front. Soft lips kissed his cheek and he closed his eyes, enjoying the rare moment of open mushiness from his cyborg fiancée. He didn't even wonder where she picked up this move from.

"We brought your favorite."

He smiled and tilted his head back to return the kiss on her lips. "I know. I smelled the KFC before you walked in the door." He noticed her eyes scanning the contents of the coffee table. "Catherine and I were just discussing infiltration."

"Oh… I see. Well I'm going to take Savannah to get some ice cream." She stood back up and gave Catherine a nod.

"Wait, you're leaving? But we just started. Shouldn't you-" Cameron cut off his ramblings with another quick kiss.

"You can handle it. I'll bring in your chicken."

John watched her leave the room with a dumbfounded look on his face. He turned back to Catherine who smiled at him.

"You can handle it."

XXXXXXXXX

* * *

Cameron came home with Savannah much later than anticipated. After ice cream, Cameron decided more time would be prudent, so she took Savannah to the movie theater to see _The Princess and the Frog._ Still not quite sure what it was that people liked about Disney animation, she chose seats among the hoards of other young girls and mothers monitoring popcorn sharing, and set her CPU to other tasks. That is, until Savannah nudged her and reminded her to blink.

She sent the sleepy girl upstairs to get ready for bed and listened intently for signs of John. The lights were out upstairs, and the TV was off in the living room. She didn't hear anything, but noticed the basement door was slightly ajar, and the light was on downstairs. Curious as to what he was doing, she carefully maneuvered the aging stairs and stopped at the bottom, waiting for John to notice her arrival.

John knew the moment they came home, of course. Both girls had a habit of letting the damn screen door slam shut, something his mother would have had a fit over. He also heard every creaking step as she came downstairs, and felt her gaze on his back.

But he was busy, and he couldn't look up at the moment. He finished his adjustment and set the tools aside before turning around on his stool and gazing at her standing quietly along the wall.

"Sorry, just tinkering with some things. Got kind of boring here once she left."

Cameron finally approached him and studied the objects on the table. She tilted her head and looked at him in slight surprise. "Those are my old arm parts. The broken ones." She picked one of the pieces up and inspected it closely. "It's not quite fixed, but it would be functional in an emergency."

John shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck as he yawned. "Yeah, well… took my mind off things. It wasn't that difficult once I figured it out."

Cameron brushed his hair off his forehead and made a note to cut it before Sarah returned. "You should get some sleep."

John wrapped his hands around her waist and toyed with her belt. "You don't want to know what we talked about?"

"I do, but is it going to be life-altering and bring about cataclysmic events, or can it wait until tomorrow?"

Impressively patient, as usual. He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Well, I don't think it'll cause any earth quakes or volcanoes to erupt, but you know what Thomas Jefferson said."

"No, I do not know what Thomas Jefferson said."

John took her hand and tugged her towards the steps. "Oh, well he said you should never put off till tomorrow what you can do today."

"Interesting." Cameron willingly allowed herself to be led from the basement, a small smile forming on her face. "If it's true, then perhaps you should do your laundry."

* * *

**Thanks for reading :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello again. This chapter is about 2 months late, but oh well. It's the mushiest chapter I've written in a long time. I promised a purely mush Christmas chapter, and I tried to deliver, but I must say, my mush is rusty. Forgive me this chapter and stop by next time for some shocking surprises as the momentum picks up again like a freight train, and it's not going to stop (finally, right? lol). Anyway, thank you all for reviewing and sticking around this long! I hope you keep coming back for more :)**

**AN: This chapter has currently not been beta'd. DarkDanny is apparently STILL sleeping (must be from all that Rampancy writing), and I really wanted to put this up already. Feel free to send me any errors you find, and my apologies in advance. I tried, but when you look at something for so long, you just go cross-eyed and start missing blatant errors.**

* * *

Cameron stood at the front window peeking through the dusty curtains. Sarah had texted 20 minutes ago that they were close and she'd been standing there waiting ever since. She saw Derek's truck turn onto their road and called out to John.

"They're here!"

Quick, light footsteps on the wooden floors told her Savannah was running from the living room and would appear by her side in three and a half seconds.

"John said to turn on the Christmas lights!" Savannah raced to the front door and flipped the porch light switch that currently controlled the outside strands of lights.

The truck pulled into the driveway behind their "mom van" as John called it, and Cameron could make out Derek's larger profile behind the wheel. She reached out to open the door, but instead of the doorknob, found her hand grabbing John's instead.

"Oh, sorry," he grumbled offhandedly. "Just wanna, well…"

Cameron pulled her hand away and motioned with a tiny smile for him to open the door. She wasn't quite sure why he was trying so hard to pretend like he wasn't really excited to see his mother. She watched as he opened the front door, and in his eagerness, crash right into the screen door, completely forgetting to open it.

"Are you okay?" Savannah giggled from behind him.

John grumbled a response as he fumbled with the faulty handle and finally pushed the door open.

Cameron got a "_he's your boyfriend_" look from Savannah, and barely kept herself from rolling her eyes as she followed him out the door.

* * *

Derek reached over and gently shook Sarah awake. "Hey, we're just about there, and your snoring is driving me crazy."

Sarah pushed his hand away roughly and opened her eyes. "I wasn't snoring, jackass." She rubbed her eyes and tried to look out the window. "Where the hell are we? I can't see a thing. Don't these people believe in street lights?"

"Apparently not. There haven't been lines on the road for three miles now."

"Lovely," Sarah grumbled, as she sent a text to John that they would be there soon. "What do you suppose this place is going to look like?"

"Pretty much like it did in the first picture they sent us. Honestly, I don't see Cameron as much of an interior designer, and John… well, how long did you say it took him to paint that kids room he lived in?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "It took him months just to pick up the blocks off the floor."

"Exactly," Derek said. "So basically, I'll just be happy with food in the fridge and some decent toilet paper. If there's no trolls living in the closets, I'll be thrilled."

Sarah amused herself by imagining Cameron going from closet to closet, pulling out creatures that looked suspiciously like Treasure Trolls; those little dolls with neon colored hair and gemstones as belly buttons. In her imagination, Cameron tied these little creatures upside down in the basement and interrogated them on the whereabouts of Skynet. Why? She had no idea, but the mental picture made her giggle.

"What's so funny?" Derek asked.

"Nothing," Sarah said, shaking her head. "Just losing my mind, little by little."

"Well, I knew that already," Derek said with a smirk. He pulled into a driveway behind the familiar mini-van and stared up at the dark, gloomy looking house lit by moonlight.

"Well, that answers th- ooooooh now that was unexpected." Hundreds of tiny Christmas lights lit up as he cut the engine, and they could see a large Christmas tree sparkling in the front window. Seconds later, they saw John come bursting through the front door, followed by an amused looking Cameron.

Sarah didn't pay her any mind though; her eyes were on her son as she climbed out of the truck. True to his word, as part of their inner joke he was wearing a state university hoodie. But even with the bulky material, Sarah could clearly tell her son wasn't the scrawny kid who left her three months ago.

_Three months. My, how much he's grown up in just a few short months._ It wasn't just his new athletic build, or his short crew cut that she was certain was Cameron's idea. She could see it in his face, and in the way he carried himself. Gone were the soft, uncertain features of boyhood. They'd been replaced by the confident set of his shoulders, and the sure-of-himself smile that would have caused dozens of girls to fall in love instantly.

Or unusually beautiful cyborgs, if you were John Connor.

"Hey, Mom!" John called. He jogged down the steps, jumped over the last two, and surprised Sarah by wrapping her in a tight hug.

God, he even smelled different. Or maybe it was just her imagination. She smiled as she tightened her own arms around him before breaking away. No, definitely not her imagination. "New cologne?" she asked with a smirk.

"Uh, kinda." He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed slightly. How the hell did his _mother_ pick up on that? "Cameron saw this commercial for that Axe stuff, and… Hey, Derek. How's it going?

"No too bad," Derek replied with his own smirk, as he took John's proffered hand in a manly handshake. "Considering the long drive with your mother bitching the whole time."

"I was not bitching!" Sarah said indignantly. "It's called navigating! Which I wouldn't have to do if you just agreed to buy a damn GPS!"

"We don't need no damn machine talking at us when we got a perfectly good map!"

"We use a GPS," John interrupted. He shrugged when his mother and uncle both turned to stare at him. "I'm just sayin'."

"You see?" Sarah said, pointing at her son. "Even John Connor uses a GPS."

Derek and Sarah stared at each other down for a long moment before both bursting into laughter.

John shook his head, thoroughly confused. "Right. Whatever." He walked back up to the porch and wrapped an arm around a waiting Cameron's waist. "They've lost their minds. I should have seen this coming."

Cameron didn't respond as she held out her hand to take Derek's. "Hello. You're earlier than expected."

"That's because I know how to drive," Derek grinned. He nearly tripped over the top step when Sarah literally kicked him in the ass.

"Please tell me you guys have food. He's been grumbling for two hours that everything is closed on Christmas Eve."

John shared a long look with Cameron as he held the screen door open for everyone to enter. He raised an eyebrow in silent question, and received a small smile in response.

"Yeah, I thought so too," he whispered.

* * *

Cameron watched John's head slowly drop down for the third time before finally placing her hand gently on his shoulder. "Perhaps you should get some sleep."

"Huh? Oh… yeah. Probably a good idea." He looked around the room at the other equally sleepy adults, all about to drop half-empty bottles of beer. Beside him on the couch, Savannah was curled up under a fleece blanket, fast asleep. Cameron moved to pick her up, but Sarah reached an arm out to stop her.

"Leave her there. It's a Christmas tradition. Santa will just have to be extra quiet with the presents."

Cameron looked down at Savannah in confusion. "She doesn't believe in Santa Claus."

Sarah shrugged and stood up, stretching her arms over her head and yawning. "Doesn't matter. Kids still get excited for the presents." She smacked a lightly snoring Derek on the side of his head on her way up the stairs.

Cameron looked at John who was already almost back to sleep and decided leaving the girl there wouldn't hurt. She grabbed John's hand and pulled him easily off the couch. At least, easy for her. John's eyes popped open as he felt his arm get nearly pulled out of its socket.

"Whoa! Okay, I'm going! Jesus, my arm is attached you know." He grimaced and trudged up the stairs, tripping on every other one as the alcohol and exhaustion took its toll on his balance. "What time is it anyway?"

"Eleven seventeen," Cameron responded immediately. She decided to keep the light off when they got to their bedroom, and led John safely over to the bed in the dark.

"Oh, it feels later than that. Thanks…" He kicked his jeans off and immediately crawled under the covers. Cameron heard him mumble something else, but he was completely incoherent. She sat on the edge of the bed and slipped on her boots as she listened to the sounds of Sarah and Derek making their way to their own rooms.

Hearing John's steady breathing behind her, she located her gun and jacket in the dark and quietly headed back downstairs, careful not to make her footsteps too loud and wake Savannah.

* * *

Wrapped in a blanket, John quietly opened the screen door and stepped barefoot out onto the cold porch. He slowly closed the door behind him so it didn't make a sound.

"What are you doing awake?"

John padded over to the steps where Cameron was sitting, staring out into the slowly lightening yard. He opened his arms wrapped the blanket around her as well as he sat down beside her.

"Well, I had to pee," he said bluntly. "Then I tried to go back to sleep but realized it was lonely all by myself. What are you doing out here?"

Cameron tugged the blanket around her tighter and leaned against him. She wasn't cold, but she liked feeling close to John. They didn't often cuddle like this, except when they were in bed… and John was asleep most of the time, so it didn't count. "I'm watching the sun rise."

"Really?" John asked, slightly surprised.

"No. I was analyzing old files, scanning for potentially missed threats, and running a physical diagnostic."

"Oh yeah? And how'd that go?" he asked, resting his chin on her shoulder."

"I'm pregnant."

John froze for a long moment. Even his breathing had stopped. He made a noise that sounded like he was choking and pulled away from Cameron slightly, the blanket preventing him from moving much farther. "Wh…. What? You're…"

"I fooled you."

He stared at the devious smile on her face in shock. He was pretty sure his brain had just formed some sort of aneurism and was about to explode any second.

"Cameron… that was…" He shook his head and started to laugh. "That was really bad. Promise not to do that to mom, okay?" He kissed her cheek softly. "God, that… I… I really had no words for that. I think my brain completely stopped functioning for a moment."

"You should have seen your face."

John pinched her side. "Way to treat your boyfriend on Christmas morning." He sighed dramatically and shook his head. "Man, I come out here in the cold damp morning to keep you company. I even bring out a blanket! And what do I get? Pssshh I get a 'John, I'm pregnant!' Yeah, mmhmm. I feel the love all right. Merry Christmas to you too!"

At first Cameron thought he was genuinely upset with her, but the grin that spread across his face told her he was only teasing. She decided to continue with it.

"I almost pulled my gun on you and said we were having an impromptu training session."

John looked at her sideways. "Would you really have done that?"

Cameron smirked in answer. "Merry Christmas, John."

He leaned in and kissed her softly, lingering on her lips as he placed a small wrapped package on her lap and whispered, "Merry Christmas."

She looked down at her lap and lifted the box up for closer inspection.

"That was the real reason I came out here," he explained quietly. "I wanted to give you your present alone."

Cameron spared him a long glance before carefully tearing off the wrapping paper. It was a horrible job, and she was suddenly glad she volunteered to wrap all the gifts. She didn't tell him that, of course, as she pulled off the gaudy reindeer paper to reveal a square black box.

Slowly she opened it, and a gold chain bracelet sparkled in the first rays of dawn. She picked it up gingerly and held it up in the light. A single, dully gleaming charm dangled from it, and she recognized it immediately as a 9-millimeter bullet.

"It, um…" John cleared his throat. "Remember when you went bad, and I reactivated you?" he asked quietly. "And I gave you my gun, and made you promise?"

"Yes," she answered softly. "I almost shot you. I had the termination order."

"But you didn't," John said.

"No, I didn't. I overrode the directives. I chose not to kill you." She looked up at him. "I promised not to."

John nodded and took the bracelet from her fingers. He opened the clasp and fastened it around her wrist. "This was the bullet you chose not to kill me with."

"It is?" She asked, fascinated that he would have kept it.

"Erm… well, no. Not exactly," he said sheepishly. "It's not the same one, but… it's the symbolism that counts, right? I polished this one up for you, and that's what I was really doing downstairs the other night when you got home. I just had your arm pieces out as a decoy in case you busted me, which of course, you did." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling slightly uncomfortable at being unable to judge whether she liked it, or thought he was nuts. "Anyway, you gave me that pocket watch. You had put your life literally in my hands. And, while I do that every day to you, I just… I wanted a way to say that I trust you. Implicitly. I did that night, and I always will."

Cameron met his gaze for a long moment, unsure of what to say. Deciding nothing would be adequate, she raised her hand to caress his cheek, the gold bullet brushing against his jaw.

John leaned in and captured her lips with his. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her closer, smiling when she surprised him by moving completely to straddle his lap. It was not what he was going for at all, but hell, who was he to complain? He felt her hands tangle in his newly trimmed hair and pulled away slightly to catch his breath.

"I take it you like the bracelet then?" he asked with a small smile.

"I do, very much," she said. "Would you like your Christmas present now?"

For the second time that morning, John's brain had imploded and turned to goo. It wasn't what she said, but _how_ she said it, that sent chills up his spine and his blood flowing south. "I think that would be-"

"SANTA CAME!"

John squeezed his eyes shut as Savannah came storming out to the porch. "Santa came, guys! Stop kissing on the porch and come open presents!"

John grumbled under his breath, earning him a poke from Cameron, and looked up at the girl with a forced smile. "Santa, huh? I thought you said you didn't believe in Santa anymore."

"But I saw him last night! He's real! He came down the chimney, and look…" She held out a doll with bright red hair, much like her own. In fact, the doll itself had an eerie likeness to her. "He gave me a new doll! Isn't she pretty? I named her Rebecca."

"Yeah, that's… that's nice Savannah." John slowly tracked his eyes back to Cameron, who had the same confused expression on her face as he did. "I didn't get her that, did you?" he whispered.

Cameron shook her head. "Sarah didn't, either."

"Do you think…?"

"I'm assuming," she said, eyeing up the doll suspiciously.

"No more patrolling away from the house at night, okay?" he muttered.

Cameron nodded in agreement. "No more drinking late at night."

"Definitely."

* * *

Sarah stood at the sink peeling several potatoes as Cameron cut up carrots to be glazed. They worked mostly in silence, until Sarah couldn't take it anymore. "So tell me about the last few months?" she asked. "Has everything gone smoothly?"

"Yes, it has gone smoothly. It's been quiet as well," Cameron said, moving on to chop fixings for a salad. "We've blended into the community nicely. John is doing well as a mechanic, and I've been waitressing at the small café in town. We keep our ears and eyes open, but there haven't been any threats thus far."

"There's not much out this way," Sarah said. She rinsed off the peeled potatoes and moved to the counter to begin chopping. "What about the house? I have to say I'm impressed at the improved condition. The photos you sent us before were… scary."

Cameron looked up from her tomatoes and smirked. "I put John to work. He was… less than happy about it."

Sarah laughed. "I can imagine. He's looking good though. Whatever it is you're doing to whip him into shape, it's certainly working." She shook her head and tossed a few potato cubes into a pot of water.

Cameron took this opportunity to satisfy her own curiosity. "Tell me about the last three months for you? I'd like as much detail as possible, since you couldn't give me much on the phone. I assume there are several successful safe houses. And what about business?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow at her multiple questions. She wasn't used to Cameron being so… vocal with her. Evidently seeking employment and blending in to a small community as a wife and mother taught her a few things about conversation. God, she hoped she didn't learn to gossip.

"Well, it started in the truck with Derek farting with the windows up, and that pretty much sets up the entire mood for the trip."

* * *

"So… Cameron's cooking dinner, right?" Derek asked, keeping his voice low so he wouldn't be overheard.

John nodded, but didn't look up. He was busy lacing up his new pair of boots from Cameron. "Yes. She's letting mom help, though. Said something about letting her mash the potatoes.

Derek grunted and returned the nod. "Good. Can't screw up potato mashing, can you?"

John paused in his lacing. "Derek, if there's one thing I learned from living with my mom, it's that nothing is impossible."

The older man sighed and took a sip of his coffee. "Well, the turkey will be edible at least."

"You have a lot of faith in Cameron," John said curiously.

Derek shrugged, and picked up his new paintball gun; a Christmas gift from Cameron. She had given it to him, stating he'd be joining their training exercises. Oh, how he couldn't wait to shoot something… even if it was with neon pink paint. "She's a machine, John. She has a built-in cooking timer, and knows how to read. You know, a recipe."

John laughed and tugged on the boots. "Good point. So, tell me about the last few months. Are we on the right track, preparation-wise? "

"Well, the story starts in the truck with your mom bitching about the radio, our speed, the way I was driving, and the goddamn sun being in her eyes. Then, what felt like five years later, we finally made it to New Mexico…"

* * *

Cameron sat beside John on the couch, wrapped in the same blanket as before. Everyone else had gone to bed, and they were left in peace to enjoy each other's company alone. The Christmas tree was still lit, and the fire in the old fireplace was burning low.

"This wasn't a bad Christmas," John commented idly. He was fascinated with the reddish golden hues the firelight brought out in her hair. He reached up and ran his fingers through her soft locks, feeling a sense of satisfaction when she seemingly closed her eyes in pleasure at the touch.

"No, it wasn't bad," she agreed, letting her hand fall to his thigh. "I think everyone enjoyed themselves."

John smiled and brushed her hair aside. He leaned in closer to place soft kisses on the back of her neck. "Mmm… yeah. Even mom and Derek stopped bickering for a while.

"Do you think they…" Cameron's question was cut off by John's lips on hers.

"Yes and no. But I don't really care right now," he answered. He slid his hand under her shirt and knew he had her full attention. "Right now, I'm more concerned with my own sexual explorations, if you don't mind."

"We're in a rather open, public room, John," she countered, but let her hands reciprocate his touches regardless.

"Yeah, so?" He stood up and tugged her off the couch. He led her over to the fireplace and knelt down, pulling her down with him "My house, my rules now. I am thereby entitled to cliché lovemaking by the fireplace on Christmas. And you… are just going to listen and make sure nobody walks in on us."

And nobody did take any notice at all, except for a small, red-haired doll that watched silently from the armchair.

* * *

**Thanks for reading :) There is a subplot one-shot that I'll develop around how Savannah got Chucky, I mean, Rebecca... and I'll put that up on the story of lost chapters titled Ironic Twist of Fate. You know, I'll get to it someday... maybe by next Xmas :p In the meantime, if you're that bored, you can follow me on twitter at Elusive_Sanity. I'm not that exciting.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

"Savannah! You're going to miss the bus! John? JOHN!"

Cameron let out a very human huff and stomped up the stairs. Sarah sat quietly at the kitchen table sipping her coffee, smirking as she listened to the slightly chaotic morning bustle. She heard Cameron knock on the bathroom door a lot harder than necessary, and wondered if she'd find her fist prints on the wood when she went upstairs.

"John! We're going to be late!"

Savannah came jogging down the steps, her backpack open and half spilling out. "Cameron! I can't find Rebecca!" She dropped the bag on the kitchen table beside her bowl of cereal milk and disappeared into the living room.

Cameron came back downstairs carrying the red-haired doll. "I have her Savannah!" She stuffed it in the girl's backpack and pulled out a pink lunch bag from the fridge. A horn sounded outside as Savannah came running back into the kitchen.

"Thank you!" She hurriedly zipped up her backpack and ran out the door. "Bye!"

"Savannah!" Completely frazzled, Cameron ran barefoot after the girl. She caught up to her right before she got on the school bus. "Your lunch, Savannah."

"Oh, thanks C… Mom." She gave Cameron a quick kiss on the cheek before climbing onto the bus. Unbeknown to her, the cyborg was silently scanning the new bus driver.

"You're new," she said bluntly.

The bus driver blinked at the accusation. "Well, no not really. I'm a sub. Old Mr. McCarroll is sick today. I'm Sue. I heard he's pretty sick. I might be around for a few days." Sue wasn't sure why the woman was making her feel extremely uncomfortable. It was the way she was staring at her. "_Talk about over protective_," she thought to herself. _Since when do parents care who drives the damn school bus?_

Cameron nodded, apparently accepting the driver's explanation, and headed back to the house. She walked straight up the stairs and pushed their bedroom door open, catching John off guard and causing him to fall backwards, his underwear halfway on.

"Sorry," she said, not feeling any actual regret at all. "You're going to make me late for work."

John gave her a look as he pulled on his clothes as fast as he could. "This was absolutely your fault, not mine. So don't go blaming me for shit! I didn't decide morning sex was on the breakfast menu!" He tugged on his boots, foregoing tying them and stuffed his wallet in his back pocket.

Cameron folded her arms across her chest. "You initiated the intercourse."

John paused and stared at her incredulously. "Me? I initiated? I didn't walk in here wrapped in a bath towel, looking all wet and naked."

Cameron tilted her head, not about to lose the argument. "I always dress in here. I was unaware you were awake. I was not purposely trying to… arouse you."

John huffed and stopped right in front of her on his way through the door. "Well don't you have some sort of internal alarm clock or something that buzzes and flashes to say 'Hey! You're going to be late for work!'"

He regretted it as soon as he saw the look on her face. Goddamn it. When was he going to learn?

Cameron's eyes cast down, as if there was something suddenly interesting in the wood grain of the floor. "Yes, I do. But when we engage in… pleasurable activities, I ignore it. Perhaps it is my fault… for ignoring the message. However, I wasn't talking about sex making us late. I was talking about you taking 17 minutes in the shower." She finally brought her eyes back up to meet his, which only served to lay the guilt on even thicker. "I will dress in the bathroom from now on, to avoid such delays in the future."

John watched as she turned and disappeared down the stairs, leaving him standing in the doorway like an ass. He truly didn't mean to hurt her. He had only meant to tease her, not accuse her of anything. He knew it was his fault, but he was just… _stupid, John. Stupid._ He sighed and headed down to the kitchen. He sometimes forgot that regardless of how developed her personality and emotions were becoming, she was still a machine, and the subtleties of human conversation were often lost on her.

"Morning," he grumbled to his mom, who was pretending to read the newspaper at the kitchen table.

"Good morning," she said, without looking up from a picture of some kid holding a generic looking trophy. "Running a bit late this morning, are we?" She hoped he didn't see her laughing smile behind her mug, having been able to guess exactly why they were running late. They were never late in the morning, due to Cameron never sleeping, and efficiently having everything ready for them to leave on time. It was usually like clockwork, something that Sarah sometimes found annoying. At 7:27 everyone was downstairs in the kitchen. Cameron was handing Savannah her lunch, and John was filling his travel mug with coffee. At 7:38 the school bus came, and five minutes later, Cameron and John were on their way to work.

Clockwork. Except right now, the clock on the wall said it was 7:53, and there was a very impatient looking cyborg standing by the front door.

"John!"

John groaned and grabbed the bagged lunch Cameron had packed for him the night before. "I am in so much trouble…"

Sarah laughed as she heard the front door slam shut. She shook her head and looked back down at the paper's headline.

_LOCAL STUDENT WINS NATIONAL SCIENCE FAIR; SCHOLARSHIP TO M.I.T._

* * *

Savannah watched her house disappear from view as the bus pulled away. She set her book bag down beside her on the seat and closed her eyes. It'd be about 20 minutes before they picked up her friend Kiley.

"Your mom is weird."

Savannah turned around in her seat to glare at the kid named Billy Wright. He was in the 6th grade, and was well known to pick on the younger kids. "Shut up, Billy! She is not!"

"Is to!" Zach Branan, Billy's right-hand crony, chimed in. "She's a whore. Everyone knows it."

"Of course she is," Billy sneered. "That's why she's so young."

"Shut up!" Savannah shouted.

"Ohhh… what are you going to do about it, huh?"

Zach grabbed Savannah's backpack and unzipped it. "Hey, look what we have here!" He pulled the doll out of the bag and tossed it to Billy.

"Wow, a doll? You still play with dolls?" The boys laughed evilly and held it out of Savannah's grasp.

"Give it back! It's mine!" Savannah reached for it, but the older boys were much taller than her.

"Aww, poor baby wants her dolly back?" Billy grabbed the head of the doll and yanked as hard as he could. He looked at it in confusion when the head didn't pull off easily like he expected. "Stupid piece of- "

He didn't get to finish his sentence. A small fist smashed into his face and sent him sprawling into the aisle.

"GIVE HER BACK!" The school bus erupted in a chorus of "fight! fight! fight!" as Savannah launched herself onto Billy.

* * *

Sarah climbed out of the truck and fixed her hair in the window reflection before approaching the front doors of the elementary school. The doors were locked, but she found a buzzer on the wall.

A woman's voice answered hastily. "Can I help you?"

"Sarah Taylor. My… granddaughter is in-" She heard the door locks click without another word from the secretary, and she quickly made her way inside. She wasn't thrilled to be there. First of all, playing her role as Savannah's grandmother was highly upsetting. She was way too young to be a grandmother. Secondly, there appeared to be security cameras on every corner. What did they expect to happen in an elementary school that was that serious?

She walked down the hallway, her low heels clicking annoyingly on the tile floor. Pink hearts decorated the walls and hung from the ceiling tiles for Valentine's Day, and she scrunched her nose at the faint smell of spoiled milk that she assumed all elementary schools shared. She easily found the main office, and shivered at the frigid cold that assaulted her when she opened the door. It appeared central air conditioning wasn't in the old school building's plans, and a noisy window air conditioner worked overtime to cool the office to arctic temperatures.

"Ms. Taylor?" A tall burly man stood in the doorway of a side office, labeled with "PRINCIPAL" in gold stick-on letters on the door. He held his hand out to Sarah with a smile. "I'm Dr. Dickons, the principal here at Bethlehem Elementary. Why don't you come inside?"

Sarah shook the man's huge hand politely and entered the somewhat dim, yet no less cold office. Savannah was sitting on a metal folding chair against the wall, holding an ice pack to her face. Rather than taking a seat in one of the plush chairs obviously meant for parents, she knelt down next to the girl and gently pulled the ice pack away.

"Are you all right?" She asked softly, tilting the girl's face to see better in the low light.

Savannah nodded silently, avoiding Sarah's gaze. No less than three different people had verbally disciplined her in the past 2 hours, and she was nothing short of terrified.

"Well, Mrs. Taylor. Please, have a seat and we can discuss what happened today on the school bus."

Reluctantly, Sarah turned away from the girl and took a seat in one of the plush leather chairs. "Yes, please fill me in. That boy sitting outside in the office… was that the boy who did that to her?"

"Um, well…" Dr. Dickons cleared his throat uncomfortably. "That is the boy Savannah was in a physical altercation with, yes. However- "

"Where are his parents? I'd like to speak to them."

"Uh, ma'am?" Dr. Dickons held up his pudgy hands. "Let's hold on a minute. Savannah here was the one who started the fight."

"NUH UH!" Two heads turned to Savannah, one with a curious expression, the other with a no-nonsense stern look. She hugged her doll tighter and looked down at the floor.

"Now then," Dr. Dickons cleared started. "While it's true that it does appear that-"

"Dr. Dickons?" He was interrupted again when the door to his office opened and the secretary appeared in the doorway. "Savannah's mother is here."

Cameron, not waiting to be invited in, brushed past the secretary she had already deemed as intellectually lacking and scanned Savannah sitting on the chair.

"Uh, yes um, Ms. Taylor? Nice to see you again. Please, have a seat. We were just discussing the incident on the school bus this morning. As I was saying…" He waited for Cameron to take a seat before continuing. "It appears that the young man was taunting young Savannah here, but she was the one who hit him first."

Two disapproving stares turned on Savannah, and the poor girl shrunk back at the double Connor glare.

"Savannah, why don't you go wait outside," Dr. Dickons suggested. "Make sure you sit on the other side of the office, away from Billy." Savannah was all too glad to leave the office. With a tiny nod, she escaped out the door with her doll.

"Now, our school policy does not allow for-"

"What did he say to her?" Cameron asked.

Frustrated at being interrupted yet again, the principal took a quick breath before speaking. "Excuse me?"

"The boy, what did he say to taunt her?" she repeated, her head slightly tilted, and her deadly terminator glare fixed on him.

"Well, from what the video camera showed on the bus, he and his friend were teasing her with the doll. She also claimed that, well…" he cleared his throat, and his cheeks turned slightly red. "She said he was calling you insulting names."

_Oh, dear._ Sarah thought to herself. Her eyes were tracking back and forth between the principal and the cyborgs. She decided to interject now, before Cameron did something potentially dangerous.

"Well, it seems that both acted out of line, and we will deal with Savannah accordingly. Won't we, Cameron?"

Cameron blinked and turned to Sarah. The raised eyebrow she received told her it was best to play along. She smiled her most genuine-looking smile at the principal and nodded. "Yes, of course. Thank you Dr. Dickons. She won't be too pleased when her father hears about this."

Sarah watched in some amazement as Cameron turned on the very human-like charm. She almost forgot sometimes that she was a _very_ effective infiltrator. This time, it appeared, she had won over the principal.

"Well good, good… I have a meeting with young Billy's parents next. They will both be temporarily suspended from school, and they will no longer be permitted to ride the school bus. My apologies if this is inconvenient to you. It's just that school policy…"

"We understand," Sarah said. She stood up, and was glad when Cameron did the same.

"Uh, just one more thing…" Dr. Dickons said, stopping them before they could make a quick escape. "This type of behavior... it's not typical of young girls Savannah's age. Has she perhaps been witness to some sort of negativity recently? We quite often see this atypical behavior in children whose parents tend to fight often…"

Cameron turned around, her cold stare once again on her face. "What are you implying, Dr. Dickons?"

"Oh, oh nothing!" He held up his hands, and unconsciously took a step back. "I was just, well, concerned that…"

"Savannah hasn't been witness to any kind of violence," Sarah supplied. She put her hand on Cameron's back and smiled. "She and her mother are very close. Perhaps she just reached her breaking point with the teasing?"

"Yes, yes… perhaps," Dr. Dickons agreed. "Well, anyway, thank you for coming in. So sorry you had to leave work, Ms. Taylor," he said, noting her waitress uniform.

Cameron paid him no mind, as she spotted Billy Wright and who she assumed to be his mother sitting on the bench in the main office. Billy appeared to have sustained much more damage than Savannah, and this made her feel a bit of pride for the girl. She fixed both the boy and his mother with a steely gaze, and was satisfied when she saw the woman shift uncomfortably in her seat.

"Keep your son away from my daughter," she said in a low voice that caused chills to crawl up Mrs. Wright's spine. It wasn't a threat, but it certainly sounded that way. She wrapped an arm around Billy's shoulders and watched as the other women herded the small girl out of the office.

They didn't say a word until they reached the parking lot, out of earshot of anyone in the building.

"What did we tell you when we first started training, Savannah?" Cameron asked, placing a hand on her back and moving her along quickly to their vehicles.

"But, I didn't…"

"We can't bring attention to ourselves," Cameron interrupted. "You've been suspended for three days now, and the whole school knows about it."

"But…"

"She's right, Savannah." Sarah chimed in. "But this isn't the time or place to be discussing this." She gave Cameron a meaningful look and pulled out the truck keys. "I'll take her back home. I assume you have to get back to work?"

"Yes, the manager was not happy. But I don't particularly like him anyway." She opened the van door, but paused when Sarah's cell phone rang.

"Yeah?" Sarah answered. She mouthed "Derek" to Cameron and furrowed her eyes in confusion. "What kind of problem?" Her eyes met Cameron's and the cyborg immediately hurried Savannah into the back of the van.

"I'll be there as soon as possible." Sarah hung up the phone and tossed Cameron the truck keys. "It's Dani."

* * *

"Is it on?"

"Just a sec. I think I… yeah, I got it. Okay, we're good." John stepped out from under the car and wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead, leaving a dirty streak behind. "This piece of shit isn't even worth fixing."

"I know, I told him that," Frankie said "But I think the man has a love affair with this thing. He wouldn't listen worth a damn."

"Well, you have to admit," Sparky said. "She'd be a pretty sexy hunk of metal with a little body work."

"Oh, speaking of sexy…" Frankie grinned and nodded towards the open garage door, where a young woman wearing a knee-length dress of a somewhat unflattering yellowish color stood. "Hey there, pretty lady. What brings you around to these parts?"

John looked up from his bottle of water to see who he was talking to. He rolled his eyes and punched Frankie in the arm. "Will you stop harassing my girlfriend?"

"Hey now!" Frankie laughed. "If I was 20 years younger…"

"You'd what?" Cameron asked, a playful smile on her face as she sauntered towards them. "Good afternoon boys." She walked right up to John and gave him a kiss on the lips. "Busy day?"

John shrugged. "The usual. What do you have there?" he asked, pointing to a white paper bag in her hands.

"Oh, this? Well…" she smiled innocently and held up the bag. "I thought that maaaaaaybe if I brought the boys cookies, they'd let you come home a little early today…"

John returned her smile, half enjoying her act, and half wondering what apocalyptic event was calling for such an Emmy winning performance.

"Did I hear cookies?" Sparky poked his head up over the hood of the car.

"Chocolate chip, peanut butter, and those sugar cookies with icing and sprinkles I know you like." She grinned and waved the bag in the air.

Sparky laughed. "Would you consider leaving John and marrying me instead?"

Cameron put an admonishing look on her face. "Why Mr. Lubinsky, what would your wife say to that?"

Sparky grinned. "She'd be glad to get rid of me. So long as I sent her a child support check every month."

John took the bag and opened it up. "Hey, you didn't say anything about fudgy brownies!" He reached in and pulled out a chocolate chip cookie, only to have the bag ripped out of his hands.

"What?" Frankie peeked inside the bag and groaned. "Oh hell woman, take him. He's all yours." He pulled out a large square brownie and bit into it merrily. "What the hell are you still here for?" he asked John around a mouthful of chocolate. He leaned in and kissed Cameron on the cheek before heading into the main office. "Damn woman is going to give me diabetes…"

"Okay okay, you don't have to tell me twice." John tossed his empty water bottle away and said his goodbyes. He followed Cameron out to the truck and climbed in the passenger seat.

"So what's going on? Care to tell me why you've bribed me out of work early… in the wrong vehicle? Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"I suspect we have a problem," she answered, as she began driving slightly above the speed limit. "Danielle Martin contacted Derek. That's all I know right now."

John stared at her quietly. If Dani was calling Derek, it only meant a problem. What sort of problem, well, that was left to be seen. However, he hardly suspected it was anything minor.

"Is she coming?" he asked.

"She's already here."

"Oh… super."

* * *

**No Dan, no clever AN's this time you miserable stoner. Too lazy for that lol. But... thanks to DarkDanny for being semi coherent enough today to pseudo beta read and tell me how awesome I am to make me feel better about being slow and fighting writer's block. Now... if he stops watching the joints in his hand move and hiding from his cat who is evidently plotting to kill him, he might actually finally finish the Rampancy epilogue. Maybe... Based on the following, you might be waiting a while...  
**

**Actual Skype transcript with DarkDanny (for your entertainment purposes only hehe):  
**

Dan 10:28 AM

My kittyy is starng at me, I think it aims to kill me

Dan 12:49 PM

omg god

I'mma cooking some bread slthered in butter

grilled toast

mmmm 

Dan 1:41 PM

hands are fucking cool

Watching the joints move scares me

I have an endoskelaton

I'm a termintor! ahhh


	8. Chapter 8

It was an awkward ride home, John mused, as they pulled up behind a shiny black convertible Camaro in their driveway. Cameron hadn't said a word since they left the garage, and he was almost afraid to say anything to disturb her silence. He wasn't sure if she was still mad at him for making her late that morning, or if she was just deeply concerned about the current situation. Either way, he let her brood in silence, not wanting to poke the dragon.

He climbed out of the truck and let out a low whistle as he admired Dani's surprisingly good taste in cars. He had just enough time to wonder how long she had been wanted for grand theft auto as he ran his hand along the freshly waxed body, before he heard Cameron let out a barely audible huff.

"It's too small to be practical," she scoffed.

He looked up in surprise. Did he detect a hint of jealousy already? "Oh but baby, this wasn't meant to be practical." He patted the hood of the car before wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "I think you'd look sexy in it. A lot sexier than her, for sure."

That seemed to placate her, as the slight scowl on her face turned to a faint smile with a hint of smugness. _Oh, nice one John,_ he thought to himself. _You're getting better at this game._

He followed her into the house, remembering not to let the screen door slam behind them. "We're home!" he called out unnecessarily. "Oh…"

Sarah, Derek, and Dani were sitting at the kitchen table, staring at several clipped newspaper articles. His mom looked up at his entrance and gave him the tiniest of smiles, but when Derek looked up, his eyes immediately tracked to Cameron.

"Kate's dead."

Cameron froze, staring at Derek but not really looking at him. Her head twitched slightly as she processed the information and its implications.

John placed a hand on her back in question. "Who's Kate?"

Cameron continued to stare at Derek, as if waiting for her own verification.

"Kate Brewster," he answered, turning his attention to his nephew. "She was a veterinarian. She had made one hell of a field surgeon when the war started, until she lost her left hand."

"She was your wife, in my future," Cameron added quietly.

John sighed and took a seat at the table. He glanced at the newspaper articles on the table, turning one towards him to read the headline. It was the article about Kate. He scanned her photo, strangely imagining what it would have been like to meet her. She looked slightly familiar, but he didn't think much about it.

"So… who's going to tell me what's going on?

Dani slid the four other newspaper articles down the table. Cameron placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned over for a better look.

"These five people were all killed within three days of each other. And that's as far as I got before you walked in."

"I only recognize Katherine," Cameron said. "Do you know the others?"

"Some," Dani nodded. "We knew Billy and Elizabeth Anderson. The other two we don't recognize."

John scanned through the articles on the table. Bill and Elizabeth Anderson, apparently 19 and 21-year-old siblings, were shot in their home. Jason Buckler was 19, and was shot while working at a Wendy's drive-thru window. Kyle Carrico, a 24 year old, was found stabbed to death, floating in his backyard swimming pool. And Katherine Brewster, age 25, had gone to work early. She was found dead by a veterinary nurse; her neck had been snapped.

"It's metal," Sarah said. "It has to be."

John help up a hand. "Wait a minute, how can we be so sure it's a terminator? I mean, we don't even know if these last two are related yet."

"It's metal," Derek affirmed. "A human wouldn't have snapped her neck so easily."

"I agree," Cameron said. "It's too efficient, and it's clear it has a target list. Strangely, it seems to be hitting them in alphabetical order. It doesn't appear to have a priority."

"Yeah, well… that's not all of it," Dani grumbled. She pulled out another newspaper picture and placed it on the table. It was obviously taken with a less than stellar security camera, and the picture was only marginally improved when they tried to enlarge and enhance it. The woman in the photo though was more than clear. "This is the woman who killed Jason Buckler."

Everyone leaned in closer, and there was a collective moment of shock. Sarah slid it next to the picture of one of the victims. "Why the hell would Elizabeth Anderson kill him?"

"She wouldn't," Dani said. "That photo was snapped the day after she died."

Everyone was suddenly staring at her, and she gave them a half-hearted shrug. "Now you see why I'm here."

"Are you saying… this one's a liquid?" Derek asked.

It was silent for several minutes, as everyone pondered the degree of "oh shit" they were in. Suddenly, Sarah stood up from the table and leaned over the sink, staring out the small kitchen window.

"Damn it!" she shouted, and pounded her fist against the counter. "Why can't they just leave us the fuck alone!"

Surprising everyone else remaining at the table, Derek stood up and wrapped an arm around her slumped shoulders. He spoke in a low voice, so the only other person who was able to hear him was the cyborg with superhuman hearing, and she wasn't paying any attention.

"If this is a T1000, we need to start preparing immediately," Cameron said.

John chewed on his bottom lip as he watched his mom covertly out of the corner of his eye. "What if it's that other model you told us about? That TX or whatever."

"Then we're in even more serious shit."

They both stared at Dani. "Well, hi there Miss Positive Outlook on Life. How've you been?"

She gave him a raised-eyebrow stare in response.

"Yeah, I figured as much. Nice haircut."

XXXXXX

* * *

John was sitting out on the porch by himself on the comfortable swing he had surprised Cameron with not long ago. He had missed sitting outside with her on the cool nights. He loved the way she'd tuck her feet up under her and lay her head on his shoulder. A fierce, deadly killing machine snuggled up next to him like the most innocent of girls. And to him, for the moment, that's what she always became.

As if reading his mind, the back door opened and Cameron stepped outside carrying a paper plate. He stopped the swing from swaying as she took a seat beside him.

"You didn't come in for dinner," she said, as if he had somehow forgotten that fact. "I brought you a hot dog. It's your favorite, with ketchup and relish."

"Thanks, but I'm not really hungry," he answered. There was just too much bad news for him to have an appetite. He needed a stiff drink instead.

"You should eat anyway," Cameron persisted. "Mostly because I made it and brought it out here for you."

John sighed and took the plate from her. "All right, but _only_ because you made it for me." She gave him a faint smile in response, and disappeared back in the kitchen. Apparently he was hungrier than he thought, because before he knew it, the hotdog was gone, and she was handing him two more and a can of Pepsi, without being asked. "Thanks… guess I was hungry after all."

"I knew you were. You skipped lunch," she said as she took her seat again beside him.

"Yeah, yeah. You're always right. Rub it in," he said, but gave her a small smile to let her know he was teasing.

"I'm not always right," she said, returning the smile. "Just 99.5 percent of the time."

John chuckled and went back to devouring his hot dogs; glad Cameron had elected to make them rather than his uncle, who had a tendency to burn them. He finished his dinner in record time, all the while Cameron watching in some amazement, and set his empty plate on the floor. "Come here," he said, motioning for her to snuggle closer. They sat in relative silence for a long time, swinging back and forth gently. A cool breeze picked up as the sun began to set, and they watched the sky turn shades of pink and orange.

"It'll be all right John," she said quietly, accurately guessing the reason for his silence. "We should be safe here. Nobody knows where we are."

"I know that," he sighed, and kissed the top of her head. "But that's not really the point. There are too many people dying out there right now. We can't let it continue. We have to stop that thing."

"I know," she answered.

"Well, what _I_ don't know is just how we're going to do that. Do you?"

"I'm not sure," she said. "There's a 92% chance of my termination if I engage it alone."

"That means you're not going to go at it alone." He said it in his sternest voice, hoping she took it seriously.

But of course, he could count on her to protest. "I may have to, for your protection. If…"

"No!" He pulled her away from him to face her, and pointed at her for emphasis. "You have me, mom, Derek, and Dani to help you. You. Will. Not. Engage. It. Alone. Understood? That's a direct order, goddamnit."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue with him any further. "Understood."

"Good," he sighed, and pulled her back down to snuggle with him. "Now me and mom defeated one of these liquid bastards before, with just a T-800. I'm sure the five of use can manage something."

"Your location was the key to your victory," she explained, leaning her head on his shoulder, as was her habit. "If you weren't in the steel mill, you would not have survived. When you fought the TX, you almost didn't. It was the T-800's sacrifice that saved your life. We don't yet know what we're facing."

John sat quietly for a long moment, pondering their dilemma as he swayed them back and forth. They were screwed, and they all knew it.

The door opened once more to reveal Sarah stepping outside. She hiked herself up to sit on the railing, and rested her back against the post. It was a cool evening, and Derek had actually volunteered to clean up dinner. She certainly wasn't going to argue with that. "We're going to have to go to Zeira Corp," she said, for lack of anything better to say.

She waited for a response, watching her son idly play with Cameron's hair. The cyborg seemed to enjoy his ministrations, closing her eyes and looking completely relaxed. Could a cyborg be relaxed? It certainly looked like it. She wondered if Cameron was pretending for John's sake, or if it was genuine.

"It could be an unnecessary risk." Cameron spoke without opening her eyes. "There's no guarantee that we'll find who we're looking for there."

Sarah picked at a splinter in the wood, not really wanting to watch the two anymore. "Well, we don't really have any other options."

"But we can't even get hold of them by phone, mom."

"I know that, John." She threw the splinter into the yard and rested her head back against the post. "But if this thing is one of those liquid bastards, she's the only realistic chance we've got."

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Assuming we can miraculously find Weaver to help… how do you suppose we find it? It could be posing as a damn mailbox somewhere and we wouldn't have a clue."

"A mailbox would be too small," Cameron chimed in.

John stared at the top of her head for a moment before letting his eyes track to his mother's. As if on cue, they both started laughing.

Confused as to what was so funny, Cameron finally opened her eyes and sat up. She looked back and forth between the two. "I don't understand."

Mother and son only laughed harder.

XXXXX

* * *

"Do we have enough ammunition?" John asked, as he pulled a box off the shelf and added it to the growing piles on the workbench in the basement.

"I think so. Cameron kept you pretty well stocked," Sarah said, as she counted the items and made a list on a notepad.

"So what's your master plan?"

"_My_ master plan?" she asked incredulously. She unzipped a large duffle bag and began expertly packing it with as many boxes as she could. "I thought you were the one in charge."

John snorted. "Me? Ha! I'm more like fourth in command around here." He shook a few bottles of chemicals to gauge their fullness before placing them into a milk crate. "It's you first, Cameron second, Savannah third, then I come in at a measly fourth place."

Sarah laughed. "Savannah? A nine-year old girl?"

"She's a bossy one," he said gravely.

"Well, I figure we just go there and… well I don't know much after that. We'll just have to play it by ear. But I'm not sure what we're going to do with Savannah." She zipped her full duffel and set it at the bottom of the stairs. "We can't take her with us."

"Why the hell not?" John filled his crate and placed it on the bottom step. He opened a cabinet hidden in a dark corner and began pulling out several rifles. "She knows everything she needs to know to be helpful. The kid can strip and load a gun better than I could at her age. It's actually kind of embarrassing."

"It's a girl thing," Sarah explained. "Especially bright ones. They tend to pick up on things faster than boys at her age. Plus, look who she has to live up to. You didn't really have that. I was learning at the same time as you were."

"Yeah, I guess so," he grumbled. "She's a damn good shot, too. She can hit a moving target."

"Really?" she asked, genuinely surprised. "What was she shooting at?"

"Cameron."

Sarah put down the gun parts she was cleaning and stared at him. "She shot… at Cameron. With a real gun?"

"Yup." John set his armload down on the table and took a seat. "Cam handed her her Glock and said 'shoot me.' She was hesitant of course, but she had to learn what it was like to shoot a person, in case it ever became necessary. To her, Cameron is a person. She knows she's a machine, but I'm not sure everything has made all the connections yet up here." He tapped his head with the barrel of his gun. "So at first Cameron just stood still, and let her take an easy shot at her. Then she gradually made it more difficult. She eventually took her into the woods and ran through the trees, at a human speed of course. It took almost a whole round, but the kid got her." He looked up at his mother's stunned expression and smirked. "She made her learn how to remove the bullets too."

Sarah's eyes went wider, causing John to chuckle. "Eeeeyah… Like I said, she's more than capable. Cameron wants her to learn how to kill something next. At first I was reluctant to agree. I mean, she's still just a little girl. Go upstairs and you'll probably find her playing house with that creepy doll of hers. You'd never know she was going through cyborg survival training." He shook his head and stole the oil from his mom. "Then I thought about it. Boys her age all over America learn to hunt. And that's all they're going to be doing. Hunting deer and such. It's probably a good idea."

Sarah continued to watch her son solemnly, her own gun left forgotten in front of her. "So Cameron's pretty much taken her under her wing, so to speak?"

John shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you can say that. Though I teach her most of the stuff. Cameron has pretty much left her training up to me, saying I needed to learn how to teach people. So, most of what she has learned came from me. Cameron's like… the reinforcer. For both of us." He pulled the slide back into place and looked up at his mom. She was staring at him with a really weird expression, and it almost made him squirm uncomfortably. "Um… what?"

Sarah smiled and shook her head slightly. "Nothing. I'm just really proud of you, that's all."

"Um…" John felt his cheeks grow hot completely of their own will. "Thanks. I think." He rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat.

Sarah chuckled. "I'm serious. You've really grown up."

"Come on, mom! Don't be getting all sentimental on me. It's not your style."

She grabbed a cleaning rag and threw it at him, hitting him square in the face. "Finish up your inventory. We need to get a move on."

XXXX

* * *

Dawn saw Cameron packing the truck with all of their bags while the rest of the Connor clan slept. She packed hers and John's clothes, and double-checked the inventory. Not that she didn't trust Sarah and John to get it right the first time, but she had the time to spare, and it never hurt to be thorough. She also spent several hours on the Internet, searching news stations and online newspapers for any other possible murders by the machine. She found two.

Derek Reese stepped out on the porch, looking groggy, but otherwise fresh and ready to go. He meandered over to 'his' truck and tossed the last bag in for Cameron. "Don't you think you may have slightly over-packed for a week-long 'vacation'?"

Cameron was about to respond, but realized he wasn't being serious. Instead, she closed the bed gate and walked around to the passenger side of the truck, where she hid a 9 mm handgun in the glove box.

"Why aren't you just straight up with him?" Derek continued. "Why continue with this charade that we'll be coming back? We both know that this is always the final wave. It's coming. I can feel it."

Cameron shut the door, but didn't turn to face him. "We don't know anything for sure," she said, before turning and heading back to the house.

"Bullshit."

Cameron stopped in her tracks, and this time, she turned around. The look on her face made him take a step back. "Regardless of the outcome of this mission, we will continue to plan on returning here. Having something to look forward to helps keep morale up. You should know this by now, Commander Reese."

Derek cast his eyes to the ground. "Yes, ma'am, I do. But I don't agree with this one."

"You don't have to agree," she said, before turning on her heels and disappearing into the house. She crept up the stairs and opened their bedroom door slowly. It annoyed her that it always creaked.

She sat on the bed slowly and looked down at John's sleeping form. He was sleeping on his stomach with his arms wrapped around the pillow. She lightly traced the newly formed muscles on his bare back, and watched as his skin twitched under her fingertips. Intrigued, she laid the palm of her hand on his shoulders and rubbed his back gently. She felt his heartbeat pick up and knew he was waking. She leaned down and placed a soft kiss at the nape of his neck.

John moaned and began stretching out his body. "You're here to tell me I have to wake up, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. We should get going soon. We have a long drive."

He let out a childish whine and hid his face in the pillow. "But I don't wanna…"

Cameron tilted her head as this reaction. "I'll drive, so you can nap."

"Okay!" John was suddenly much more enthusiastic about the trip ahead. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and grinned at her. "How are you always so beautiful in the morning?"

"I don't sleep."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek. "So you're saying you spend hours while we sleep, making yourself gorgeous?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "But not today. I'm not even wearing makeup."

"Oh my God! The world surely is coming to an end! Cameron isn't wearing any makeup! Ouch!" He rubbed his arm where she had punched him playfully, yet slightly painfully.

"Get dressed. Sarah is making pancakes."

XXX

* * *

**Thanks for sticking with me through my long periods between updates. It's summertime, so hopefully I won't have such a long wait next time. As always, I appreciate all the reviews. I do read every single one, and I take constructive criticism and suggestions seriously. **

**I've also started a new story that's unrelated to this series. It's titled "For Once." You might want to check that out too, if you're a fan of my writing :)**

**Also... the next chapter is going to be tiny. There's a reason for it. I just feel like the events of chapter 9 are deserving of a slot of their own, regardless of length. Curious? You should be. You've been waiting for it...  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello all... I know it's been quite a long time! I apologize for this taking so long... real life sucks sometimes, ya know? So does writer's block. Anyway, this chapter is not at all what I had in mind when I finished chapter 8. I guess that's the thing about taking an extended vacation from writing and the TSCC community to rejoin real life for a while. I got back into writing with a whole different idea of where I wanted to take this story. I am thus far quite happy with it, and very eager to get to the part I REALLY want to share with you all. I'll do my best to write as much as I can now, but I can't make any promises for time. As a high school teacher of 160 kids, free time gets tough to find. Anyway... thank you for continuing to read my work even after such a long hiatus. It's wonderful to know that it still brings people joy and entertainment. **

* * *

Derek parked outside of the old Weaver residence and turned off the headlights. They waited in nervous silence for several minutes, watching the shadows, looking for any movement or sign of attack.

"Doesn't look like anyone's home," Derek said. He looked at his partner beside him and waited for instructions.

"We stick together," Sarah said. "We'll go in the front door. I see no reason to try to break in another way."

"So... we're not being stealth ninjas then? I was kinda hoping that's why you dressed all up in those stretchy black clothes. Unless you were purposely trying to make your ass look awesome."

Sarah was glad the early morning darkness hid the redness on her cheeks. She still punched him in the arm for good measure. "If we were trying to be stealthy, we would have parked your beast of a truck five miles away so nobody would hear it."

"Yeah but, I thought we'd have a little bit of fun and repel in from the ceiling or something." He watched her climb out of the truck and shut the door behind her a bit louder than necessary. "Guess not."

They cautiously walked up to the front door and stared stupidly at the doorknob. "What are we gonna do, shoot it off?" asked Derek.

Sarah thought about it briefly, before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. In answer, she reached out and turned the knob, unsurprised when the door opened right up. "Terminators don't need locks," she said.

Derek pushed the door fully open and shined his flashlight into the darkness of the foyer. "You think she booby-trapped the place then?"

Sarah shook her head and stepped past him. "Nope. I think she's here."

"Right," he muttered. He took one last sweeping glance behind him before shutting the door and quietly following her into the living room. "And what makes you think that?" he whispered.

"Because where else would I be, Commander Reese?"

Derek jumped, and if it weren't for having lived off a meager diet and lots of exercise the majority of his life, would have probably suffered a heart attack. Taking several seconds too long to come to his senses, he spun around to find himself aiming his Glock at Catherine Weaver.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed, before lowering his weapon to his side. "I hate it when she's right."

Skipping any and all sense of the word "cordiality" Sarah pushed him aside with her typical no-nonsense attitude "Where the hell have you been?"

The liquid terminator stared at the rude woman through heavily lined eyes. "Pleasure to see you again, Sarah Connor. How nice of you to knock."

"Cut the shit, Weaver. We have been trying to contact you for months."

Catherine sauntered past the fuming woman and nonchalantly turned on a table lamp. It wasn't until now that Sarah realized the machine appeared to be dressed in pajamas and a robe.

"Why?" the machine asked, taking a seat on the edge of the couch. "I've been quite busy. I'm not here to be your son's sidekick and protector. That's the cyborg's job, in case she's forgotten. I have my own priorities to tend to."

Feeling suddenly awkward, Sarah took a seat in a nearby armchair. She picked up a small framed portrait from the end table and smiled sadly at the picture of the real Mr. and Mrs. Weaver, holding a much younger Savannah in her lap. "No, she hasn't forgotten. If anything, she's taking the job more serious than ever, if that's possible." She put the picture back down and rubbed her neck exhaustedly. "It's just... we might be in some very serious trouble here, and..." she sighed when she felt a familiar hand push her own out of the way and work its magic on the knots in her neck.

"Let's just put it this way," Derek continued for her. "It's your kind of trouble. Literally."

Catherine raised an eyebrow at the rather intimate interaction between them, but found herself completely unsurprised. "I know why you're here. It's why I'm here. Again. You are right to be concerned. We are in very grave danger. Though I would appreciate if you wouldn't call it _my_ kind of trouble. The machine in question is an older model, a different design. Not quite as smart. Primitive, really. Limited self-awareness, a simple drone to... "

Sarah's phone interrupted the machine's tirade with an excessively happy-sounding ringtone that made most humans want to immediately smash the object in question.

"It's John."

* * *

John attempted to roll onto his left side, but the seat belt locked and held him in place. He grimaced as he fumbled to unlatch it, and let out a sigh as he heard the satisfying whir of the belt rolling back up.

"You should wear your seat belt."

He didn't even open his eyes as he made himself more comfortable in the reclined passenger seat.

"You should mind your business and watch the road, Miss Bossy."

Cameron dutifully kept her eyes on the road. "You are my business.

"Fine, fine..." John sighed and sat his seat back up. He obediently re-buckled his seat belt and stuck his tongue out at her when he thought he saw a small smirk on her lips at the sound of the click.

"You did not have to sit up to buckle the safety belt."

He rolled his eyes and hiked his boot up on his knee. "Well might as well, seeing as how I'm wide awake now because someone insisted on pestering me about 'safety'."

"You've been sleeping for several hours anyway."

John glanced at the clock and was surprised to read it was 2:00. He guessed by the darkness around them that it meant a.m.

"How are you doing?" he asked through a yawn. "Do you need a break or anything?"

The cyborg turned to give him a slightly confused look. "I'm fine, thank you for asking. I don't need a break. We don't have much longer anyway. We reached the city limits 45 minutes ago. Traffic has been a bitch, as Sarah would say."

John raised an eyebrow and patted her thigh. "Thank you for not screaming at everyone like she does."

"I flipped an old lady off."

Having taken a sip of flat Mountain Dew, John found himself spraying it over the dashboard in a coughing fit. He wiped his mouth with his dingy sleeve as he stared at her, wide-eyed. "You what?"

"She cut me off and I missed my exit. It was the least I could do."

He could imagine what the most could have been.

"Poor grandma," he muttered. "We need to stop somewhere real soon. I'm hungry and I gotta pee." He peeked behind him to where Savannah laid spread over the bench seat. "I'll just let her sleep. We can stop again later."

They stopped at a well-lit gas station with a 24-hour food mart. Armed with a couple twenties and some change, John meandered into the store alone, giving the bored looking cashier a nod before making a beeline for the neon restroom sign.

Cameron leaned casually against the car as the gas pumped automatically. She picked the pump with the least encumbered view of the mini mart through the windows to keep an eye on John. When he disappeared into the restroom, she scanned her eyes over the rest of the lot, mostly empty except for red sedan full of clearly intoxicated teenaged boys and a black mustang that pulled into a parking spot in front of the store. The gas nozzle clicked off, and she glanced away to replace it in the cradle. That's when she heard the gunshots.

* * *

John was fumbling with a straw wrapper as he tried to juggle powdered donuts, Doritos, a Twix bar, large coffee, and a cherry slushy all at once. It wasn't working out too well, and he ended up with cherry ice all over his hand. Exasperated, he set his items down the small drink shelf, waited to make sure they wouldn't tumble off, and turned to head to the front of the store for a basket. He got 2 steps down the required truck-stop condom aisle and froze. The little bells at the top of the door rang, and a woman he recognized as having died six days prior walked in. In panic, he ducked behind an end cap and pulled out his Glock. He peered through the large front windows between advertisements to see Cameron busy with the gas nozzle. It was obvious she had no clue what had just walked in.

His eyes tracked to the convex mirror in the corner of the ceiling. He slid silently back towards the restrooms, praying to every deity known to man that the employees-only door was unlocked, as the woman raised her hand and shot the cashier twice in the chest.

XXX

Cameron dropped the nozzle and ducked behind the pump, she peeked around the side and immediately recognized "Elizabeth" as the shooter, still standing over the register. She scanned the rest of the mini-mart through the windows, but saw no sign of John.

She began calculating possible plans of action. She could just wait where she was, hoping John was hiding. If she walked towards the store, she'd definitely be spotted. No doubt the terminator inside would recognize what she was, and the inevitable confrontation that would ensue would not be pretty.

The other machine suddenly cocked her head to the side and spun around. With sure, solid steps she began making her way down the center aisle, hunting down the source of the noise she heard. She spotted the abandoned drinks and snacks left by the fountain, and noticed a package of donuts had fallen to the floor. Someone was hiding.

Cameron's decision was made for her when the assassin machine started towards the restrooms. Unsure of where John was inside the building, she bolted for the door. It didn't matter that the only thing she could do was face the machine one-on-one. It didn't matter that the other machine was stronger and more powerful; that her chances of survival were slim to none. None of it mattered as she raced across the pavement.

Her eyes were focused on the terminator opening the restroom door. She didn't hear the extra footsteps until it was too late. A much larger body ploughed into her, nearly knocking her off her feet. Instead of falling, the man used the momentum to spin her around. He took hold of her arm and pulled her back to their truck.

John released her as he ran around the front of the truck. He climbed in the passenger side, barely shutting the door before Cameron was peeling out of the parking lot. She cut straight across five lanes of traffic, giving John a heart attack at several near collisions. A curb was jumped as she pulled into a Burger King lot and parked in a space facing the gas station.

A soft thud and a whimper from behind him made John whip around in his seat. He reached back to help Savannah pick herself up off the floor. " ' you okay?"

"What's happening?" she asked, fear clearly evident in her mousey tone.

"Cameron's pretending to be a race car driver. Hand me the shotgun under the seat and buckle your seatbelt."

He turned back around and pulled out his cell. "What are the fucking chances? For real. What are the goddamn fucking chances?" he grumbled to himself.

"Chances of what?" Cameron asked in a flat tone. She wasn't really paying attention.

"Of us finding the one terminator we actually come looking for, without even trying? In Los Angeles. At 2 in the morning. At a 7-Eleven."

"You're like a terminator magnet, John," she deadpanned, not taking her eyes off of the mini-mart.

He gave her a sideways glare as he grumbled into the phone. "Come on Derek, pick up, you asshole."

"They're not as low as you think," she continued. "I'm familiar with this place; I chose it on purpose. One of the main resistance bunkers will not be too far from here. And this is not the only terminator we came looking for."

"AAARGH! The fucker never answers his phone!" He punched the call-end button and dialed his mother. "Well, I'm not counting Weaver. I have a feeling that bitch knows exactly what's going on, and will pop up out of nowhere at exactly the moment _after_ we... need... her...?"

It was the sharp turn of her head and the bright flash of blue in her eyes that caught his attention. He stared at her; mouth agape, as her eyes quickly tracked to Savannah and back.

And that's when the clue finally smacked him in the face. He glanced at the back seat, hoping with every cell in his body that the girl hadn't been paying attention to what they'd been saying. The look on her face crushed his hopes... and his heart.

_"Hello? Hello, John? John, answer me! Hello?"_

Cameron was suddenly pulling back onto the road, following what looked like a silver Mercedes in the dark of the early morning. John sighed and closed his eyes, and when he finally answered his mom on the phone, his voice was heavy with regret.


	10. Chapter 10

[2:28 a.m - Derek]

"Please hurry, Ms. Weaver. There's not much time." John Henry's voice was loud over the car's speakers.

"Drive faster!" Sarah shouted, but the T-1001 in the driver's seat paid her no mind. She was going as fast as her luxury sports sedan was capable.

Derek sat silently in the back seat. He was zoning out, trying to get his mind ready. Attempting to put the fear he had aside so that he could focus. Some people would call it meditation. Derek just called it "praying he stayed alive".

"Where are they, John Henry?" Catherine asked to the car's hands-free unit.

"Take the next right," he replied, sounding slightly frantic himself. "They should be right there."

"And Mr. Ellison?" she asked.

"Is on his way right behind you."

The tires squealed as she made a sharp turn at too fast a speed. A human would have lost control of the car at that point, but Catherine managed to keep it on the road. What they saw in front of them, though, wasn't pretty.

"Sarah!" The frantic woman was opening the door before she even came to a complete stop.

Derek hurried himself out of the car and grabbed hold of her arm just in time, as Catherine ran towards the wreckage so fast she was a blur. Christ was that really all that was left of the van? It looked like nothing but glass and scrap metal.

"Let go of me Reese!" Sarah shouted, but Derek just dropped his gun and wrapped his arms around her tightly. "John!" She screamed. She struggled desperately to wriggle out of his hold, but it didn't work.

Derek, for his part, barely even noticed her elbows pounding into his ribcage. His focus was on the lifeless body that lay on the sidewalk, and the blood that was pouring from his nephew. He watched as Cameron, unable to get her feet under her, half crawled, half slithered over to John. The look on her face made Derek's heart beat so fast, he could hear it in his ears.

Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her mouth slightly ajar in a look of total despair. As she reached out to touch his neck, Derek held his breath, not even hearing the wails of the woman in his own arms.

And let out a shocked sob of his own as he watched Cameron suddenly spring to action. "John!" He heard her call as she carefully lifted his head off the cement, and he knew his nephew and future general to still be alive. For now.

Suddenly, there was a noise so high pitched it made him immediately let go of Sarah to cover his ears. He watched her fall to her knees, covering her own with her hands and staring wide-eyed at the scene in front of them.

Behind Cameron and John was a glob of shimmering, wriggling liquid metal. Limbs protruded from the glob at random, and disappeared just as fast. A misshapen silver head appeared at the top, mouth open in pure agony, and he realized that's where the high-pitched metallic shrieking was coming from.

His vision was blocked suddenly as Cameron stood up, cradling John in her arms. She ran awkwardly, her right knee clearly not quite functioning as she hobbled towards them. He ran forward, and without needing to ask, took his nephew from her arms. The jostling elicited a pained cry from his nephew that flooded him with relief. He was alive, and at least somewhat awake. That was a good thing.

The horrid screeching suddenly stopped, and Derek looked behind Cameron to see not one, but two Catherine Weavers stalking towards them.

"Get him in the car!" The left one demanded. "We need to get him immediate medical attention."

Cameron slid into the backseat of the car and held out her arms expectantly. "Derek," she muttered quietly, breaking him out of his shock.

He blinked a few times, shaking himself out of the trance. He carefully laid John in the back seat with his head in Cameron's lap. Arms grateful to be rid of the weight, he rubbed the soreness out of them as he stood back up. Sarah pushed past him aggressively as she tried to get in the passenger seat, but the other Catherine Weaver pulled her back.

"You must wait," it said, in the same cool monotone voice they were used to hearing.

"I'm going with my son!" she growled, and tried to pull away, but the grip on her arm grew tighter.

"You must wait," it repeated, completely unfazed.

The car suddenly spun around and sped down the street, leaving Sarah screaming in its dust.

"Sarah," Derek said with forced calmness, and reached out to take her from the metal's grasp. "Sarah, he'll be all right. We'll get there, and you'll see..."

Another car pulled down the street, this one driving about 40 miles per hour slower, but nonetheless way too fast to keep the tires from peeling as it stopped beside them.

James Ellison climbed out of the driver's seat and stared at them over the top of the car. "I suggest you get in. Now."

Derek opened the back door and practically pushed her into the car. He turned back to the could-be-might-be Catherine Weaver, but found he was the last person standing on the street. A cold chill ran up his spine as he climbed into the passenger seat.

[2:47 a.m - John]

_"John? John! Wake up! Wake up, John! Please John! Wake up!" _

That voice... images of the beautiful face that went with that voice floated through John's mind. It brought to him a feeling of peace, happiness, and love. He could stare at her forever. But why was she shouting at him?

_"Please don't leave me, John... Please... wake up!"_

Leave her? Why would he leave her? He can't do that. Not to her. He promised.

_"John!"_

Now he heard sobbing, and he couldn't have that. He needed to comfort her. He needed to make it better.

John opened his eyes but all he could see was darkness. He blinked, trying to send it away, but it was no use. He squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could.

"John!"

He hesitantly opened his eyes again and found his vision filled with her beautiful face. But it wasn't the same as in his imagination. There were cuts all over her face, and silver metal showing underneath the torn flesh at her temple. That wasn't right. She should have that covered up.

"Stay with me, John!"

Where would he go?

[2:54 - John]

It was loud, but he couldn't really decipher what all the noise was. Everything seemed to mesh together. He was lying on his back, but he had the strange feeling that he was moving. John opened his eyes to see lights zipping by above him.

"It's all right, John. I'm right here."

He turned his head to see Cameron running beside him. Her face was all messed up again, and she looked worried. Really worried. He couldn't understand why. He felt fine.

He lifted his hand towards her face, but couldn't quite reach. He let it fall back down beside him listlessly. Okay, maybe he was tired.

"It's okay, Cameron," he managed to croak out. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. "It doesn't even hurt."

It was supposed to make her feel better, but it was obvious it had the opposite effect. Cameron's face contorted in a look of fear and she grabbed his left hand with her own.

"You'll be all right," she promised, but he didn't hear her. His eyes were already closed again.

[3:02 a.m. - Derek]

It was almost surreal. Derek had heard people talking about "out of body" experiences before, and he thought maybe he was having one now as he stood outside the medical room in the Emergency Department, watching the nervous doctors attempt to save his nephew. Someone had tried to usher them to the waiting room, but whether it was Sarah's yelling or Cameron's icy glare, they were allowed to stand out of the way.

Nobody ever thought about John dying. Not at this age at least. It should be impossible, right? If he were to die, then someone would just go back to a time _before_ he died to make sure he doesn't. Right? So, that would mean he's not going to die, because someone would have surely come back in time to stop it. Right?

His eyes drifted to the cyborg standing stoically with her hand pressed up against the glass. Cameron's face was completely blank, but Derek knew all too well how she would often hide behind the terminator facade to mask her emotions. Well, it wasn't really a "facade" he supposed. She was a machine, after all. He wondered if it was possible for her to "turn off" her emotions. If she could... would she?

Sarah stood beside him, and every once in a while he heard a quiet sob escape her lips. Her arms were folded in front of her with her hand covering her mouth. Her body trembled, yet he was afraid to touch her. Like she would explode if he did.

He heard someone come running down he hall. He didn't bother to look who it was. Doctors had been running in and out for several minutes now. But this time it wasn't a doctor. The footsteps slowed as they neared, and a little redhead walked sheepishly up to the window.

The doctors worked furiously, moving faster and faster as the minutes ticked by. There were orders being shouted at each other, and bloody tools passed around.

"He's slipping!" a male shouted.

"I can't find it!" That was a female.

A beeping that Derek hadn't even noticed before suddenly stopped and was replaced by a steady buzzing. He didn't know what it meant, but the anguished scream that came from the woman to his left was all the answer he needed.

He instinctively reached for Sarah and pulled her close, half holding her up as her knees gave out. She wailed in his ear, but he barely noticed. His focus was on the man on the table, and the people shocking his chest.

A short beep, then the buzzing returned.

"Cameron?" he heard Savannah sob, as she sought refuge in Cameron's arms. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered a sense of déjà vu. A Savannah much closer to his own age, and her stoic mother... not looking much older than her daughter, mourning over the loss of a beloved general, father, and husband.

That was one of the worst days of his life. But that happened twenty-some years in the future. _This_ certainly _wasn't_ supposed to happen.

"Clear! All clear! Shocking!" Another beep, and the woman in his arms collapsed against him.

The buzzing noise started again, and suddenly a nurse turned and pulled the curtains closed behind the glass.

[3:02 a.m. - Cameron]

Nothing was processing.

Nothing.

Not the cool glass under her hand, not the sound of the heart monitor, nor the sobs from the woman behind her.

John was dying. It was her fault.

The blood of humanity covered her clothes, its fate sealed by her failure.

There would be nothing left for her if he died. The entire purpose of her existence lay lifeless on the gurney on the other side of the glass. Without him... she was pointless.

Something bumped against her, and she felt that something snake its way around her waist. She looked down at the flowing red hair of a child, and found her arms automatically wrapping themselves around her.

Perhaps... "nothing" wasn't quite accurate.

The curtains closed in front of them as if shutting a book at the end of the final chapter. She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against the girl's soft hair as she felt the tiny body tremble.

"I ran," Savannah said through choked sobs. "I ran like you said."

"Shh," she whispered in her ear. "It'll be all right. I won't let anything happen to you."

And through the chaos of shouts and tears, she heard a beep.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for being so patient with this update! I know it's not the longest... but I hope it was worth it. I know I know... who? what? wtf?! Don't worry, everyone's story will be told, because I decided this wouldn't be the last chapter after all. You know I can't leave you with so many stupid unexplained things... I don't work for Fox :p****  
**


	11. Chapter 11

White sneakers hardly made a sound on the polished tiles as Dr. Arnold Goldstein turned a corner and pushed through the double stainless steel doors. He pulled the hairnet from his head and twisted it mindlessly in his hands as he walked towards the couple on a bench at the end of the hallway.

"Ms. Taylor?"

A thin woman with skin as pale as snow looked up at him with eyes red and swollen from tears. He watched her mouth move slightly, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat and glanced at the man sitting next to her before continuing.

"He's out of surgery..." He was cut off by sighs of relief. "But he lost a lot of blood. We were able to stop the bleeding and give him a transfusion. He's stable right now in Recovery."

The woman let out a sound that sounded like half sob, half laughter. She sniffed and rubbed the moisture from her cheeks. "So, he's going to be okay?" she asked.

The doctor sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "He's stable," he repeated noncommittally. "But he's not entirely out of the woods yet. The next several days will be critical."

"When can he leave?" Derek asked.

The doctor was taken a little off-guard by the question. "As soon as he comes out of Recovery you can see him," he smiled as reassuringly as he could. "We'll keep you updated on his progress. But I'm afraid he'll have to be admitted here for quite some time."

It was obvious by the looks on their faces that the news wasn't as pleasant as he had thought it would be, but neither said anything further. "I'll send a nurse out to notify you when he's been moved," the doctor finished, before leaving them with a parting nod.

Derek stared at the floor for several minutes, letting the information settle over him like a warm blanket. "He's going to live," he whispered. Sarah wasn't sure if he was actually talking to anyone other than himself, but the words seeped in and coddled her soul nonetheless.

James Ellison suddenly appeared in front of them, two steaming brown cups in his hand. "You two looked like you could use some of this," he said, as he handed Sarah and Derek cups of black coffee.

"Thanks," Sarah muttered gratefully. She took a sip of the too-hot liquid and let it warm her insides. Just the aroma of the fresh-brewed coffee brought her senses back to full alert and she began to think a little more clearly. She let Derek fill him in on the recent John update.

"I'm glad to hear it," James said. "God doesn't seem to be in short supply of miracles when it comes to John." He cleared his throat before continuing in a low voice, mindful of Savannah sleeping on a row of nearby chairs. "Everything is taken care of," he nearly whispered. "It's all cleaned up. Nobody saw anything. To anyone else, it was all just... a big misunderstanding."

"What about security cameras?" Derek asked. "Traffic lights, home cameras..."

"Taken care of," James said. "John Henry made sure of that."

Derek decided to keep his opinion of the AI "taking care of things" to himself for the time being. Some machines he could learn to be comfortable around, but others... not so much. Speaking of... "Where the hell did Cameron go?"

XXXXX

* * *

_"She's stopping," John said, as if it wasn't obvious to anyone else in the car. Cameron stopped the van several yards behind the machine in front of them, but she already knew they were busted. She saw the reverse lights turn on, and suddenly, the car in front of them was speeding towards them. _

_In an automatic reaction, Cameron threw her right arm in front of John, holding him to his seat. The impact was like an explosion. She felt the van get pushed several feet back, and she managed to get her left hand in front of her face just in time for airbag deployment. _

_She registered that Savannah was shrieking in the back seat. That meant the child was conscious. Good. _

_She felt John turn and heard him scream, "Savannah, run! Run!" _

There was a knock on the door.

Cameron blinked, and the video playback paused as she was once again completely focused on her bare knee, sliced wide open as she sat on a toilet.

Another knock. "Hello? Is anyone in there?"

She glared at the bathroom door. "Occupied." She heard a grumbling on the other side and turned back to her knee. Satisfied that it was as repaired as possible for now, she pulled the skin flaps closed and wrapped stolen medical tape around the appendage. She pulled up her pants and tested her weight on the joint, and found she was able to somewhat walk with it, rather than hop as she was doing before. She turned on the water in the sink and cupped her hands under the faucet. She splashed the water on her face several times, and wiped it with a cheap brown paper towel from the wall dispenser. She got as much of the grime off her skin as she could, careful of the large gash on her temple.

After patting her face dry, she opened several butterfly bandages. She carefully patched up her face so that no metal shone through, and the wounds looked like regular cuts. Satisfied with her work, she took a step back and gazed at her full reflection.

Her shirt was ruined with blood. John's blood.

_She ran at the other terminator and slammed it into the side of the van. The liquid metal machine easily morphed to face her and slammed its fist into her abdomen. Cameron stumbled backwards and fell once again to the ground. Before she could move, the liquid arm of the terminator formed a sharp blade and stabbed her through the knee and twisted, dislocated several pieces in the joint. Cameron knew this to be an effective strategy to slow her down. And as she struggled to get back to her feet, she watched helplessly as the other machine easily caught up with a running John and stabbed him through the lower back. _

Another knock on the door. Tugging her jacket closed to hide as much of the blood as possible, she yanked the door open and stared down at a little tow-headed boy no older than seven. Eyes widening in fear at her bloodied appearance, he turned and ran around the corner.

Unfazed, Cameron let the door slam shut behind her and scanned the nearby signs on the wall. A possible solution to one of her problems found, she slowly limped through the maze of corridors towards the gift shop. A few visitors and nurses stared curiously at her, but she ignored them.

The lurid neon sign of the gift shop seemed out of place in the sterile hospital of generic pastel greens and blues. She walked in and scanned the racks and shelves full of what seemed to her to be completely random items. When she spotted the rack of clothing in the back, she meandered through the small crowd of children wanting candy and adults desperate to seem considerate with a generic gift.

She sifted through a few of the articles on the "shirts" rack and realized her options were both limited and hideous. She'd seen better choices at the dollar store. In fact, John had purchased one there for her before. It was purple and said, _"I don't need your attitude, I have one of my own!" _on the front. It was his favorite.

Deciding she did not need a shirt with a joke about fishing that she didn't understand, or anything talking about "old farts", she picked an innocuous white sweatshirt. For something so ugly she was surprised it cost so much, but decided it would be better than walking around covered in blood. As she walked to the cashier, something caught her eye on a nearby rack.

"Prayer cards," explained the woman behind the register. "There's one for every ailment and patron saint on there. Sweet little things."

Cameron picked one up and turned it over in her hand. "How do they work?"

The lady looked at her kind of funny. "I guess you read the card and hope for a miracle."

Cameron stuffed the card back on the rack and set the sweatshirt on the counter. "That doesn't sound very logical."

The cashier shrugged. "Have you ever tried it?"

"No."

"Well, then..." The woman stuffed the shirt in a plastic bag and handed it to her. "Maybe you should."

Praying for a miracle. That was something humans did. Faith wasn't part of her programming. But there were lots of things she did that weren't part of her programming.

XXXX

* * *

"There you are."

Cameron stopped just outside of the gift shop and watched as Sarah caught up with her from down the hallway.

"Where have you been?"

She held up the gift shop bag for her to see. "I needed a new shirt."

Sarah inspected her clothes and cringed. "Yeah, I guess you did. John is out of surgery. He's in recovery right now. They say he's stable, but not out of the woods yet."

Cameron stared at the floor as she considered the news. Rather than comment, she simply nodded.

Uncomfortable, Sarah gestured towards the gift shop. "Do they have food in there?"

The cyborg shook her head. "Just candy. There's a sign pointing towards a cafeteria." She pointed down the hall in the direction Sarah had come.

"Well, I need to get something to eat for everyone. You can help. Go change your shirt."

Sarah took a sip from the water fountain as she waited outside the bathroom. They were next to one of the out patient departments and she could hear the triage nurse calling numbers.

"Sixty four!"

A mother and a sniffling young girl cradling her arm walked up to the desk. The girl was no more than 4 or 5, and the tears streaking down her cheeks broke Sarah's heart.

"Name?"

The mother tenderly helped the little girl into a chair. "Allison Young."

"Birthdate?"

"July 22, 2008"

A few keys typed before the nurse smiled at the child and asked, "Can you tell me what happened? What hurts?"

Through a runny nose and light sobs, the girl managed to answer just above a whisper. "I fell off my bike and hurt my arm."

The nurse nodded. "Were you wearing a helmet?"

"Yes," the girl replied meekly. She turned her head to look up at her mom, and something in the girl's face seemed vaguely familiar to the watching Sarah.

"Are you ready?"

Sarah jumped, and turned to find Cameron staring at her oddly.

"Yeah, sorry. I was just... spacing out. Never mind." She shrugged and regarded the cyborg's new sweatshirt. She raised an eyebrow at the embroidered words. "Worlds Greatest Mom?"

"It was the best they had." Cameron actually looked a little embarrassed. "You can have it when I'm done."

"I'm touched," Sarah said sarcastically. "Let's go find some sandwiches and get back upstairs. I want to be there when John wakes up."

They sidestepped a male orderly pushing an empty wheel chair and followed the conspicuous arrow signs pointing towards the land of somewhat edible products.

"Young, Allison," they heard the orderly call out behind them. Cameron paused and turned just in time to see a young female child with long brown hair slide into the chair.

"Coming?" Sarah asked suspiciously. She was impatiently holding open the heavy stainless steel door that led to the stairwell.

Cameron made sure she had what John called her "bored robot" look on her face before turning back, and proceeded down the anti-septic scented staircase as if nothing strange had happened at all.

XXXXXXX

* * *

The annoying heart monitor beeped rhythmically in beat with John's pulse. His chest rose and fell slowly which each breath. He was naked under nothing but a sheet and light blanket. A gauze patch peeked out from the edge of the bed linens, and wires were attached to round electrodes stuck to his chest. An oxygen tube in his nose provided assistance, and the clamp on his index finger attested to its proper function.

"Standing over him staring like that isn't going to make him wake up faster," Derek breathed into Cameron's ear as he walked by. She ignored him and took John's hand into her own instead. She did her own check of his vitals just to be sure.

"Shouldn't he be awake by now?" Sarah asked. She was still in slight panic mode, waiting for something to go wrong. But as exhausted as she was, she gave up pacing and chose to sit in the comfortable recliner chair in the corner and fiddle with the ice cubes in her empty drink. She was glad Agent Ellison had offered to take Savannah home. The ICU was no place for a kid, and she was in no condition to try to take care of one either.

"The pain medication is slowing him down. His pulse is getting faster though, he should be waking soon."

"Soon" was a bit of an over statement. Hours passed, and it wasn't until well past midnight that John finally stirred awake.

Slowly opening his eyes, John stared at the drop ceiling tiles above his head. There was a beeping sound to his left, and it was dark except for a very low, soft light emanating from somewhere. His body felt like a thousand pounds, and as much as he tried to turn his head, he couldn't muster the energy.

Someone squeezed his right hand and said his name. They didn't really expect him to respond, did they? Where was he anyway? His eyes began to droop, and just as they closed once again, he heard his name called again.

This time when he opened his eyes, his vision was filled with an exhausted looking Cameron. Her left cheek had a red spot where she must have been laying on her hand, and her hair was a tousled mess.

That was odd. Cameron couldn't feel exhaustion. Could she? No. He was pretty sure she couldn't. She didn't sleep either. Huh. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe this was a parallel universe Cameron. Maybe it wasn't Cameron at all. Maybe he was in the future and it was Allison. Maybe Cameron was a real girl and he imagined things about scary robots. Maybe her name wasn't Cameron at all. Maybe her name was Linda. Linda? Yeah that sounded familiar. Boy, she sure looked tired. She had huge dark circles under her eyes. Must have been uncomfortable to sleep sitting beside him. Where was he anyway? Oh wait, she was talking to him. Wasn't she? Maybe not. He thought he heard her talking, but her lips didn't move. Maybe she was a ventriloquist. That would be cool.

Someone snapped their fingers in front of his eyes and he blinked.

"A little too much morphine I think," the nurse said quietly. "He's flying higher than a kite. I'll switch the IV. Help him wake up."

John finally managed to turn his head towards the voice. A plump blonde woman in white scrubs was writing on a clipboard. The gold nametag on her shirt caught the soft light of the lamp, and he read "Linda, Registered Nurse". Oh, hi Linda.

"Hi John," she said to him with a smile. Holy cow, she heard his brain! John stared wide-eyed at her. "Do you know where you are?"

He tried to talk, but his mouth was extremely dry. He slowly shook his head instead.

"You're in the hospital, John. You were in a car accident. You had some pretty bad injuries, but we fixed them up for you. Everything is looking all right so far."

John let her words process in his foggy brain. Car accident? Where was he driving?

Then it all came flooding back to him at once. The 7-Eleven, the T-1000, seeing the metal spear poking through his abdomen. Cameron screaming his name.

The beeping noise suddenly started beating faster, and a warm hand gently cupped his cheek. "It's all right now, John. Everything is okay. You're safe now."

His eyes tracked to Cameron's, and with new clarity, he saw it wasn't exhaustion on her face. The dark circles weren't from troubled sleep; they were from smeared mascara explained by the slight dampness on her cheeks.

Knowing it was sometimes best to let the loved ones do the explaining, the nurse silently finished up her checks and snuck back out of the room.

John had a thousand and one questions, but didn't know where to start. Seeming to understand his predicament, Cameron carefully took a seat on the edge of the bed next to him and lifted a cup of water with a straw to his lips. Careful not to let him drink too much, she set the cup down after a few small sips and picked up his hand again.

"What do you remember?" she asked quietly.

John stared at a tousle of hair that had slipped from behind her ear and was brushing her cheek as he thought hard to remember. "I'm not sure," he finally said in a hoarse voice. "I don't remember much after being stabbed. But I remember most of what happened before that."

Cameron's eyes traced a bruise that trailed down his cheek and neck as she considered how to explain. "You were mostly unconscious after the attack. The T-1000 caused a tremendous amount of internal damage. The doctors struggled to control your bleeding. They had to send you to surgery, and it took a long time to get the hemorrhaging under control." She didn't think now was the time to tell him he had actually died three times.

He studied her closely as he slowly put the puzzle pieces together, knowing she was purposely avoiding eye contact. "Where's everyone else?" he asked instead.

"Sarah and Derek are sleeping in the truck. They kicked them out after the ICU visiting hours were over, and said there was a limit of one person permitted to stay with you."

"Oh, how did you win the lottery spot to stay?"

"I didn't," she admitted. "I've only been in here for an hour. We agreed to take shifts since none of us wanted to leave you."

Well, that sounded fair. He had to admit that he was glad Cameron was the one he got to wake up with though. "What about Savannah? Is she all right?"

Cameron nodded, still avoiding his gaze, and now pretending to be fascinated with the call button/TV remote. "She did a good job. She ran and hid like she was trained to do. She's safe with Mr. Ellison. She didn't need to be here."

She seemed almost to be lost in her thoughts, staring silently at the floor tile as she was. But a moment later she blinked and slid off the bed. "I should go and let them know you're awake. Sarah will want to come see you." She took a step towards the door, but John held her hand surprisingly tight. She glanced at their hands and tilted her head in question before finally making eye contact.

"I'm sorry I ruined things with Savannah."

Cameron had to think for a moment to figure out what he was referring to. "I think she already knew the truth. But I'm sure it wasn't pleasant to actually hear it and have her suspicions verified."

John let her hand go and picked at his blanket guiltily. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm such an asshole."

"Everyone makes mistakes, John." She lifted the blanket to check the cotton bandage on his abdomen. The wound would have to drain for several days, and it was clearly time to change the bandage. Rather than call the nurse back in, she picked up the gauze and tape to do it herself. "Even machines," she finished absently as she carefully pulled the tape away from his skin.

He watched groggily as she carefully redressed his wound. It was pretty ugly, and even the skin around it was mottled and bruised. "This wasn't your mistake," he muttered. He wiggled his toes under the blanket, satisfied that at least one part of his body didn't feel like it was run over by a freight train. "Shit happens, and shit really likes to happen to one, John Connor. You just gotta get used to that fact if you're gonna marry me and help save the universe from the zombie apocalypse." He took advantage of her close proximity and poked her in the cheek. "Cause I can't have my wife moping all around, hiding those beautiful eyes from me every time I get a little boo-boo. It's bad for morale and all."

Cameron finally lifted her head and held his gaze. His eyes were definitely a little unfocused. "You still have a lot of morphine in you."

John smiled. "Yeah I guess. I'm feeling pretty good considering the extra hole in my body."

"You should rest. I'll go and send Sarah in to see you."

"No," he said, suddenly serious. "You stay. You belong with here with me."

"That's not fair to them," she chastised. "They care about you too."

"They'll survive," he said through a yawn, wincing as his stomach expanded painfully. "We'll just tell them I didn't wake till morning, how's that?"

Cameron didn't mind lying. If it made John happy, and no one would get their feelings hurt and cause drama, that's all that mattered. The fact it also gave her what she wanted was just a secondary benefit, of course.

Of course.

She pulled her chair closer and folded her arms on the bed. She rested her chin on her arms to meet him at eye level. "Zombie apocalypse?"

"Yeah, why not?" John smiled again. "You guys kinda remind me of zombies. One track minds, a little brain dead. Hard to kill, dark circles of death around your eyes..." He reached up and gently wiped at a dark mascara smudge. "You look like a raccoon."

"I had to make it look authentic."

"Oh, so those tears weren't for the pain and suffering of your beloved then. Just good infiltration technique?" he teased.

"Exactly," she deadpanned.

"Uh huh. It's okay. I understand you have a reputation to uphold. You can't let anyone know that your coltan is going soft."

"Not as soft as your..."

"Hey! Let's not get mean now. Catheters aren't exactly pleasant feeling."

"Who said that's a catheter you feel? Maybe they had to implant a rod because the terminator sliced it off."

They stared each other down for several long moments before John meekly peaked under his blanket. He let out a little sigh of relief.

"Liar."

XXXXXX

* * *

There was nothing like the feeling of your body collapsing on the couch after a long day, and letting the cushions completely suck you in. Arnold Goldstein sighed in relief as he kicked his shoes off and closed his eyes. A long, unexpected surgery on a double shift after a restless night of sleep was like a living hell. How the kid hadn't died he still wasn't sure. There were so many people working at once, he wasn't sure who had actually managed to finally stop the bleeding. One minute he was ready to call it quits, and the next the kid was miraculously starting to stabilize.

He wasn't the only one who had looked puzzled in that operating room.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, but he ignored it. Jesus Christ Himself could have been calling and he didn't care less. He wasn't about to move from his comfortable couch cocoon.

The beeper still attached to the belt on his hip vibrated next, and he furiously pulled it off and tossed it on the floor.

"Shouldn't you answer that?"

It took two seconds to go from half asleep to wide awake and standing in the middle of his living room. He stared in fear and confusion at the redheaded woman comfortably perched in his leather armchair.

"Who the fuck are you?" he shouted. "Get the fuck out of my house!" He ran to the kitchenette and pulled a knife out of the wood block. "I'm calling the cops!"

The woman remained completely calm. "Relax Dr. Goldstein. If I was here to harm you, I would have already done it. I'm here with a business proposition."

_Huh?_

The surgeon held the blade defensively but made no move to locate his phone. Catherine took the chance to continue. "I'm looking for particular kinds of people that would be beneficial additions to my team in the near future. I think you have what it takes."

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about. I would appreciate if you just -"

"You had a patient today that should have died," Catherine cut him off. "In fact, he did die, but you miraculously managed to save him. How did you do it?"

Dr. Goldstein stared blankly at her. He thought back to the young man he spent three hours operating on and had to admit, he had no idea how to answer.

"I... I don't really know. One minute I was trying to find the location of the bleeding, and the next, it just... stopped"

The stranger in his living room evidently found his answer satisfactory. She sauntered slowly towards him and laid a business card on the counter in front of him. He looked down at the expensive looking card, noting the familiar company he had seen on the news.

"When you're ready to find out how your patient survived this morning... call that number. Ask for John Henry."

* * *

**Thank you all for sticking around and waiting ever so patiently for this update. I won't give excuses... just apologize for it taking so long. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know if it was worth the wait! **


	12. Chapter 12

"Ms. Weaver can see you now."

Dr. Goldstein stood up from the chair and straightened his suit jacket. He followed the receptionist into the brightly lit office and looked around.

It was a modernly decorated room, that was for sure. The furniture was brightly colored, and somewhat uncomfortable looking. The wall to ceiling windows were impressive, however. And that's where he found the redheaded woman standing, staring out over the city.

He heard the door shut behind him, and something in his stomach clenched.

"Are you familiar with the Hungarian surgeon, Humor Hultl, Dr. Goldstein?" the woman asked, without turning around.

Caught off guard by the question, the doctor fumbled with his tie and cleared his throat. "I believe I read his name in a textbook somewhere…"

"He's credited for inventing the surgical staple in 1908." Catherine Weaver finally turned around and motioned for him to take a seat in the bright red chair in front of her desk. She waited until he sat down before making her way to her own much more comfortable-looking office chair. Not that comfort mattered to her one way or the other. She continued. "You came to see me because you're curious about your patient, I presume?"

The way the woman seemed to look straight through him was unsettling, but Arnold Goldstein did his best not to fidget. She didn't care to wait for him to answer.

"Have you heard of the term 'programmable matter'?"

The doctor stared at her, puzzled. "Programmable matter?" he repeated.

"Yes. It's exactly what it sounds like. Matter, that can be programmed. Programmed... to change." She leaned forward, a silver object in her hand. She waited patiently for him to realize she wanted him to take it.

It was a small shiny metal ball. Almost like one of those that hang from the clacker thingies that seemed to be a required desk accessory for every doctor he'd ever known. He looked at her questioningly. "What is this?"

"Mimetic polyalloy," she answered matter-of-factly. "It's metal that has been programmed to change."

Curious, he held it up closer to his face to inspect it. "I've never heard of such a thing before." It was a plain old solid metal ball, for all he could see. There was no give when he tried to squeeze it, or anything strange about it at all. "How does it change?" he asked, slightly confused.

Before his eyes the ball began to shift. He tried to drop it, but it had slowly stretched and wrapped around his finger. He didn't even realize he had leapt from his chair, so transfixed as he was on his hand. The metal slowly covered his finger like a finger cot, and then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

But it wasn't gone. He could feel it; he just couldn't see it. All he could see was his finger. Or what looked like his finger. Terrified and intrigued all at once, he touched the finger with his other hand. It was cold like metal, but looked and felt like skin. Eyebrows furrowed, he grasped it tightly and tugged, slightly surprised when it slid easily from his finger.

In his right hand, he held what felt like a cold, boneless finger. Sickened, he tossed it down on the desk and watched it morph and turn into a silver ball again.

Catherine Weaver calmly picked it up and rolled it between her fingers.

"Mimetic polyalloy," she repeated. She looked up at his stunned face with a cold smile. "Amazing stuff, isn't it?"

The doctor stared back at her, slowly retaking his seat. "What… What does this have to do with my patient?"

Catherine Weaver stared back at him with a blank expression, as if calculating how much to tell him. How much he could handle.

She swiveled in her chair and pressed the intercom button on her phone. "John Henry? Could you join us, please."

XXXXXXX

Seventeen. There were seventeen ceiling tiles that John could see. There were more, of course. But he couldn't see around the corner from his spot on the bed.

Six. There were six delicious looking Cheetos haphazardly laying on a napkin on the small end table alongside a deck of cards. It was as if Savannah had purposely left them there to taunt him

He was bored. Beyond bored. Those Cheetos were stale by now, having been sitting there for several days. The old TV with its limited channels was irritating. The color was going bad and everything had a pinkish hue to it. There was a hardback book tossed on the chair beside the bed. It wasn't his first time reading _The Art of War_, and he could only make it through so many pages before that got boring, too.

John pressed the red button on his remote and waited several minutes before a nurse appeared. A short, older woman wearing green scrubs and a Hello Kitty ID lanyard came shuffling into his room. "Whatcha need, sweetheart? You gotta tinkle?"

Thrown off guard, John blushed slightly and shook his head. "No, I was just wondering if I could have another popsicle."

"Well of course," she said. She pulled the blanket off and checked the scar on his stomach. Apparently satisfied it wasn't festering, she covered him back up with the sheet, then lifted the blanket into the air to let it settle over top of him perfectly. "You'll be happy to hear the doctor said we can start letting you eat anything you wish, so long as it doesn't upset your stomach."

John's eyes brightened, and his stomach grumbled in anticipation. He briefly eyed the stale Cheetos on the table. "Really? Anything? I don't have to eat broth anymore?"

"Nope." Noticing him eyeing the junk food, she tossed the bag in the trashcan and refilled his hospital water mug. "But you'll want to take it easy. Dr. Goldstein doesn't want you throwing up and risking any freshly healed wounds inside. But you should be okay to eat some birthday cake for dessert. At least without the icing. That should be a nice change from lemon Jello."

"Birthday cake?" His mouth started salivating at the thought. "Whose birthday is it?"

The nurse, now busy wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his arm, paused and stared at him perplexed. "It's yours, silly! How'd you forget that?"

"Mine?" John stared at her wide-eyed as she pumped the cuff on his arm to boa constrictor death pressure. He didn't notice the uncomfortable pain as he did the mental calendar math in his head. "Holy shit has it been that long?"

The nurse unwrapped the cuff and squeezed the rest of the air out of it by hand. "Just about. It's tomorrow, but Nancy will be off so she wanted to bring it to you today. You have a nice little fan club around here. Must be that charming smile." In truth, they all felt bad for the kid. After the first few days, his family seemed to have disappeared. Not that the hospital tried contacting them, of course. There was no need for it, and he was legally an adult. But the visits were few and far between, and usually from his mother and daughter. His pretty little wife hadn't been seen in two weeks. She sighed and wrote a note on his chart before placing it back in its bin on the wall. Young Mr. Connor was nothing but polite, and had a sweet sense of humor that had won over more than a couple of staff members. "I'll bring you that popsicle as soon as I check up on your neighbor in the next room."

John watched her disappear and sighed. When had he reached the age that birthdays weren't important enough to remember? Maybe it was when Cameron was nearly obliterated when she went out to buy him a stupid cake. She should have just made one. She could have made Betty Crocker taste better than anything made in the grocery store. Although his mother probably wouldn't have eaten it.

He picked up his cell phone for the hundredth time that day, seeing the unsurprising blank screen with no messages. He probably wasn't the only one who forgot his birthday. Big surprise. It was as if everyone had completely forgot about him in general. He contemplated how much trouble he would or would not get into for being caught using his cell phone in the hospital for only a moment before he dialed her number.

It rang three times before it was answered. In truth, he was surprised she answered at all. She hadn't answered most of his calls over the last several weeks.

"Twenty-seven," she said into the phone.

The seconds ticked by as John counted off on his fingers. "William Howard Taft." Cameron had decided they needed a new code. Inspired by one of Savannah's history lessons at school, they would say the number of the day of the month, and the caller would respond with the corresponding US president. John hated it. Mostly because he hated memorizing facts he found stupid and useless.

"Are you all right, John?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine." He suddenly felt silly for calling her. He knew she was "busy", although nobody would tell him with what. "I just, I don't know, I guess I just… wanted to talk."

Silence answered him. He heard what sounded like a door closing and a soft click. "Are you in pain?"

This wasn't what he wanted to talk about. "No. I mean, yes, but no. They keep me pretty doped up. It doesn't really hurt much anymore so long as I'm not moving. But they have me up and walking for physical therapy. That kinda hurts."

"I'm sorry, John."

He shrugged, even though he knew she couldn't see it. "It's whatever. I know you're… busy… or something… saving the world and all while I'm crippled."

Cameron looked at herself in the mirror of the public restroom. She adjusted the tight blue dress that was dangerously close to exposing a couple of assets John was quite possessive over. "You're not crippled, John. You're injured. You need to be patient while your body heals."

John sighed heavily into the phone and stared up at the ceiling. She was purposely avoiding giving him any hint or clue as to what she was up to. "Yeah. Right. Well, I'll just let you go. I don't want to hold you up or anything."

There was a part of her, a part that Cameron didn't quite understand, that wanted to drop everything she was doing to go sit by his side. That's where she was supposed to be. By his side. But there were things that had to be done. Things that, in the long run, protected John Connor. He just couldn't know what they were at the moment, although she had every intention of telling him eventually. It was her choice to keep him in the dark. She didn't want to put any more stress on him than there already was. There was a soft knock on the door, and she glared at it impatiently. "John?" she said, her voice purposely calm and soothing.

"Yeah?"

She smiled at his gruff reply.

"I miss you, too."

She didn't wait for a response. She ended the call and glanced back at the mirror. Checking once again to make sure everything was covered just enough, she unlocked the bathroom door and opened it. She gave the man standing there her sexiest smile. "Sorry, business call." She held up the phone as if to prove her point.

The man grinned and held out his blazer, waiting for her to slide her arms through. "That's quite all right, sweetheart. I figured it was about time to call it a night anyway. What do you say we head on out of here? I have a couple of bottles of expensive wine chilled and waiting in my hotel room, if you'd care to join me."

Cameron smiled and slid her hand around his elbow. "I'd love to."

* * *

**A/N: There are no excuses for how long this took. Writer's block sucks. I lost my passion for it, as well as the fandom. For a while, at least. A year, I guess. But I'm back. And actually, I plan on trying to get another chapter up in short order. I'm sorry this is so very short... embarrassing, really. This was originally longer, but the scenes weren't meshing right. I had written this chapter in 4 separate files. Actually like 4 separate chapters. I had no idea where I wanted to go. But as I started playing with them, I found my way. I threw one of the files out entirely (who likes jamfights anyway?) and am building from the 2nd and third files to create the next chapter. Anyway, it's 2 am and I'm fighting the effects of Nyquil. Be kind with my spelling/grammar errors as I don't have a beta and I can barely see straight at the moment, but I'm just waaaaay too excited to not post this now. Please let me know in PMs or reviews what needs fixed, I won't mind. But of course, telling me how awesome it is would also be nice ;)**

**Happy Valentine's Day!**


	13. Chapter 13

Derek tapped lightly on the hotel door, not wanting to alert anyone except the cyborg with acute hearing inside. He waited awkwardly in the hallway, looking up and down, hoping no one came out of their rooms or the elevator. When it was apparent that she hadn't heard him, he knocked a little louder.

Knuckles half an inch from connection for the third time, the door swung open to reveal a dripping Cameron wrapped in a fluffy white towel. She hurried him inside and took the duffel bag from his arm. Before he even realized what was going on, she let the towel drop to the floor and began digging through the bag for fresh clothes.

He averted his gaze immediately. It wasn't the first time he happened to see her naked, although it was the first time in this timeline. Modesty was apparently not something Skynet built into their terminators, and she seemed to have no clue or care in the world that it was absolutely not normal to be standing in front of her fiance's uncle in her build-day suit. His eyes scanned the floor, looking everywhere but her general direction. Slowly his brain started processing what he was seeing.

Her blue dress was lying haphazardly on the floor by the bed. One stiletto shoe lay beside it, the other… on the opposite side of the room. Gray slacks were crumpled at the foot of the bed, and on top… his eyes dared stray from the floor… lay Nigel Bowman, naked from the waste down. His eyes were open, but his neck was twisted at an odd angle.

"Please don't tell John about this."

Something inside of him broke. His eyes snapped to the half dressed woman in front of him, making her freeze in place. He ignored the fact her right hand was in her bra cup, in the middle of adjusting. He glared at her, unable to believe what he was hearing and seeing.

"Excuse me? You want me to _not_ tell my nephew about this?" He was furious. His voice was getting too loud but he didn't care. In that moment he had no respect for her. She wasn't his lieutenant general.

Cameron stared at him blankly. Her gaze drifted from his down to the dead man on the bed. "It would be best if he didn't find out about this yet."

"_Yet?_" Derek ran his hand over his face in disbelief. "Oh, so you plan on telling him about this? How well do you think _that_ will go over with him?"

"I do," Cameron replied. "He will be angry, as he usually is when I keep something from him. But he'll eventually get over it." She pulled a pair of jeans up her legs and buttoned them, not looking the least bit concerned.

"_Get over it?_ Oh sweetheart, he is _never_ going to get over this!" He pointed to the man on the bed in emphasis. "You can't just go around fucking random men for information, and then just expect John to _get over it_! What the _fuck_?" His hands were on his head now. "Didn't Skynet give you metal fuckers _any_ common sense?" He closed his eyes and shook his head, not entirely sure how he was going to deal with this.

Cameron stood beside the bed, still shirtless and barefoot, staring at Derek's back in shock. It was unfortunate that she hadn't picked up on what he meant the first time. "I did not have sex with him," she said firmly.

Derek spun back around, clearly at his wit's end. He had no patience for literal wordplay. "Oh come on! How do you expect me to believe that? It doesn't matter which hole it went into, it's all the same! Whether you fucked him or bl…"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. His jaw was suddenly damn near relocated to the back of his head. At least that's what the slap felt like.

"I didn't touch him." Her voice was cold, but not menacing. Instead, it clearly gave away that she was hurt. Derek chanced meeting her eyes and was surprised to see something between shock and disgust on her face.

She broke eye contact first and pulled a t-shirt from the bag. It was one of John's. She slipped it over her head and pulled her long hair out from the back.

"I never planned on it, either," she continued as she bent over with perfect balance to slip on a white cotton sock. "I would have killed him first." She glanced at the bed. "I did."

To say that he felt like a royal asshole was an understatement. The room was filled with awkward silence as she finished putting on her socks and white waitress sneakers. She walked passed him and bent down to pick up her discarded dress. Derek noticed there was a deep purple stain covering the back of it. "Blood?" he asked, confused. Neither of them looked to be bleeding.

"Wine," she responded. She pointed to the table where he saw for the first time an overturned bottle of red wine spilling over the edge. "I was searching through his suitcase on the floor and accidentally bumped the table. The bottle fell over and spilled in my hair and down my dress. That's why I needed to shower."

"Find anything?" he asked, his voice unusually high and quiet. Oh, how he felt like eating his gun.

She held up the black laptop before placing it in the duffle bag with her soiled dress and shoes. It was followed by the man's Blackberry and wallet. "We don't have time to look at it now. Your raised voice may have alerted security." She zipped the bag with more force than necessary, but found it taken from her hands.

"I'm sorry," Derek apologized quietly. "I just… It looked bad."

Cameron didn't answer him. Instead, she walked out of the room, fully expecting him to follow her. The elevator ride was awkwardly silent all the way down, but she didn't notice. When the doors opened to the lobby, she let him lead the way out to the parking garage.

Taking the passenger seat, Cameron switched the radio to her favorite station as he started the truck.

Derek paused before he grabbed the shifter. "I won't tell him if you don't want me to," he said finally.

"I appreciate that," she replied. "I won't tell him if you don't want me to tell him, either."

He nodded as he put the truck into reverse and drove towards the exit. "Wait." He glanced at her in confusion. "What wouldn't I want you to tell him?"

"That you slept with Sarah."

Cameron was glad she had put on her seatbelt as the truck's breaks were suddenly applied too hard. Derek stared at her in horror. "I never slept with her!"

Ever so slowly she turned her head to meet his gaze. A decidedly mockingly sweet smile crossed her face. "How do you expect me to believe that?"

XXXXXX

* * *

A light knock on the door startled him. He dropped the bolt he was fumbling with and just barely caught it before it rolled of the table.

"Come in," he said towards the door, annoyance clearly in his voice.

A young red headed woman peeked in. "Hey dad, whatcha doin'?"

John smiled, but didn't turn around. He was determined to squeeze his fat fingers into the tiny space to get the damn thing put back together. "Hey Savannah. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Savannah walked over and gave him a kiss in the top of his head before hiking herself up to sit on the table beside him. She looked down at the endo arm in his hands curiously. "What? A girl can't just pay a visit to her dad once in a while?"

John peeked up to her and shook his head. She was tall and lanky, with her long fire-red hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had grown up just as he remembered her all those years ago, when he had visited a different future. "Of course she can, so long as she uses her tiny functioning fingers to get this damn thing aligned right." He handed her the metal arm and watched as she scrutinized the pieces. They had taught her long ago how to work on the terminator endos, if for nothing else than to be able to fix Cameron in an emergency. In this case, she was proving useful where his fingers, left mangled after a too-close explosion, we're unable to maneuver the tiny object in the tight space.

He watched as she worked, her tongue sticking slightly out of her mouth as she concentrated. Finally, her face relaxed and she handed him back the metal extremity. "All fixed."

John took a look at her work, nodding his head in approval. "Thanks," he said, before moving on to another part. "So you gonna tell me why you're really here?" He smiled as he said it, letting her know he wasn't asking out of annoyance,

"Oh, yeah," she chuckled. "I figured I'd warn you mom was looking for you."

John raised an eyebrow, but didn't take his eyes off the metal hand he was focused on. "Warn me? What the hell did I do this time?"

Savannah shrugged. "Who knows? She's been moody lately. Probably been shot in the head too many times. But she was asking around for you, and not very politely, so I thought I'd let you prepare for whatever trouble you're in."

John sighed and dropped the hand back on the table. He rubbed his tired eyes with the heel of his hand before standing up and stretching. "Well if that's the case," he said through a yawn, "let's sneak out and go find something to eat."

Savanna smirked, but hopped off the table to follow. "You can't hide from her forever, you know."

John laughed. "But I can try."

As if on cue, Kenya, John's personal German shepherd, began barking outside the door.

"Well, shit. There goes that plan," John sighed.

Savanna stared at the door, waiting. "Why does she let you have a dog?"

John rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles as if he was preparing for battle. "Well, if Cameron is in here with me and Kenya starts barking, we know we're in trouble. But we didn't really choose to keep her. She just refused to stop following me around like a shadow."

"Cameron or Kenya?"

John gave her a light push. "Very funny. Better watch that mouth of yours. She can hear us, for sure."

As if on cue, the door opened and Cameron walked in. Barged in, was more like it. She had her blank terminator look on her face, and John knew he was done for.

"Hey babe," he tried nervously. "Is, uh... Is something wrong? I was just about to, um, go looking for you."

Cameron stalked over and stood toe to toe with him, looking him straight in the eye. John gulped. He must have really screwed up something this time.

"Look," he started. "If I did something wr..."

"John!"

John blinked in confusion. It was Cameron's voice that had cut him off, but her lips didn't move. Movement caught his eye behind her. He looked past his wife in front of him to see... his wife... standing in the doorway, a look of genuine panic on her face. Genuine, for a terminator, meant something was majorly fucked.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp, burning pain in his abdomen. His eyes grew wide as he stared at the silver blade stabbed through his stomach.

John opened his eyes to complete darkness. He sat up a little too quickly and regretted it immediately, as he clutched his stomach in pain. He slowly eased himself against the headboard of the bed and took slow, deep breaths, trying to relax his abdominal muscles and breathe the pain away. He was burning up and covered in sweat, and briefly wondered if he was running a fever.

He picked up his phone on the utilitarian table cart. It was only just past 9 pm. He was tired and physically drained from the extensive physical therapy he had suffered through that afternoon. He thought about hitting the nurse button but there wasn't anything he really wanted or needed. Nothing they could bring him, anyway.

He typed a text and sent it to Cameron, not expecting anything back. She hardly responded to his messages, but it irrationally made him feel better sending them anyway. He turned the TV on and tried to relax, settling in to watch whatever ridiculous movie was playing on Sci Fi.

XXXXXXX

* * *

There were only three steps. Three stupid wooden steps with excessive rubber tread. But they looked like a mountain to him.

"Come on, just one more time."

John glared at the physical therapist standing beside him.

"Don't give me that look. I'll have them feed you powdered eggs three times a day. Let's go. One at a time."

He grimaced as he took the first step slowly, more at the thought of having to eat the disgusting yellow mush than at the pain. He knew the bitch would do it, too.

"That's it. Look, you only have two more. Get to the top, we'll end early as my birthday gift to you. I heard you need the exercise after eating three pieces of cake yesterday."

John squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the sweat dripping down his back. It sounded simple. But you don't know how many abdominal muscles you use when you walk up a tiny flight of steps five times until you have a T-1000 or whatever spear you through the gut.

He made it to the top though, and let out a sigh of relief as walking down the other side was a simple ramp.

"Great job," Dr. Kapinski said, writing something down on her tablet. "Now go sit on the ball."

"What?" John spit. "You said I was done!"

The woman chuckled evilly and shrugged. "No, I said we'd finish early." She pointed to the large blue ball with her rubber stylus. "Stop whining, this is the easy part."

Easy. Right. John knew it was pointless to argue, but made sure he was thoroughly glaring at her as she held his arm and helped him sit carefully down on the unsteady ball. Sitting was easy. Balancing on a ball was anything but. He picked a spot on the worn carpet to stare at as he did his best to not move around too much. He hoped she wouldn't start throwing a Nerf ball at him again, forcing him to move and stretch.

"We're going to do something different this time," the doctor said, as if reading his mind. "I want you to close your eyes, and see if you can balance without your vision. Don't worry," she assured him. "I won't let you fall over."

John sat up straighter on the ball and planted his feet firmly on the ground. So what if he couldn't see? How the hell was that going to make any difference? He'd humor her anyway. It was better than playing catch. He rested his hands on his thighs, making sure he was nice and still, before closing his eyes.

It was easy, at first. He was careful not to move or even breathe too hard. But the longer he sat there, the harder it became for him to sit still. His weight shifted a little to the left, and he felt himself start to tilt. Panicking, he moved right and over compensated, and immediately felt himself falling.

Strong hands grasped him around the shoulders from behind just in time. They pulled him back upright into a stable sitting position.

"Not bad, John. Much better than I expected."

He opened his eyes to see the woman sitting at her desk in front of him, her trademark stupid smirk on her face. It took him a moment to realize someone was still holding on to his shoulders, and it was quite obviously not the woman looking back at him.

He turned his head to the left, careful not to lose his balance. He couldn't see who it was behind him, but the sparkle of jewelry on the hand caught his eye.

Said hand squeezed his shoulder lightly. "Don't hurt yourself John," Cameron muttered quietly.

And suddenly there was no ball, no unbearable therapy, and no pain. It didn't matter that she ignored most of his calls, or that no one would tell him what she was doing. Nothing mattered except the fact that she was here right now. He swallowed hard. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long." Cameron had actually been watching him almost the entire time from the doorway, but she didn't want him to think she was being creepy. She also knew from Sarah that he refused to let anyone watch, but she understood why. She understood John Connor's need for pride. It would some day be one of his most important attributes. She sat down on a chair beside him so that they were eye level.

John stared at her, reminding himself of how her hair flowed softly around her face, how her eyes seemed to soften when she looked at him, and how for some reason, letting a faint hint of blue shine behind her brown irises had become their private way of connecting. Or maybe that was his imagination playing tricks on him. Maybe it was just everything he wanted to see after weeks of being apart.

The doctor clearing her throat lightly brought him out of his reverie, and he blushed slightly as he drew his gaze back to her evil smirk. "I'm going to go take my final evaluation out to the main desk. Dr. Goldstein needs to review my recommendations, but I'd say you're good to go."

John's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Oh, so now we're done for the day?"

The doctor's smirk softened into a full smile. "We're done for good, John. Have a speedy recovery, but I'm sure you're in good hands." She gave an almost conspiratorial nod towards Cameron before leaving them alone in the therapy room.

John turned back to Cameron. "What?"

Cameron stood and held out her hands to John, waiting for him to grasp them to help pull him up from the exercise ball. When he was finally standing, she looked up into his eyes and smiled. "Dr. Goldstein was convinced that any further recovery didn't require a hospital stay."

John just stared at her, the situation almost too good to be true. "Are you saying I can go home?"

Cameron unfolded the metal walker and set it down in front of him. "I requested to be the one to take you home. I received the text this morning. Derek is waiting in your room."

John stared at the walker in front of him. There were too many emotions flowing through him in confusion. Going home should have excited him. And it did. It honestly did. However… he had thought maybe Cameron was there because of his birthday. Not that getting out of the hospital wasn't good, it was just that perhaps, maybe, his birthday meant more to him than he realized. Then there was the stupid walker in front of him. He knew deep down he wasn't ready to walk on out of there without it. But using it meant showing weakness to Cameron, and to his uncle, and everyone else at home. Cameron was one thing. It was her job to be the one person he could show weakness to. His mom he was all right with too. But not the only other family member running on testosterone. He sighed as he pushed the walker aside. Pain or no, he wasn't using the damn thing in front of them.

Cameron watched the turmoil across his face, and when he pushed the walker aside, she grabbed hold of his left arm and hand with hers, offering what support she could. She was pleased when he didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry I haven't been here for you," she said quietly.

John kept walking, not looking at her, but he squeezed her hand in his. "Yeah well, nobody really was, but it's whatever. I survived, right? I'm a big boy. There were things that needed to be done. Just because I went and got my ass skewered doesn't mean the world stops turning, or Skynet stops trying to kill off humanity."

They were almost to the door, but Cameron didn't want to leave the privacy of the room yet. There were conspicuously no other patients in the room, and the therapist hadn't returned yet. She stopped walking, forcing John to stop too. When he turned to look at her in question, she took the opportunity to reach up and cup his cheek with her hand, stroking the dark circle under his eye with her thumb.

They gazed quietly at each other for a long moment, before Cameron finally broke the silence. "I wanted to be here. I would have stayed here night and day if I could."

John dropped his eyes, noticing for the first time she was wearing one of his shirts. It was obviously too large for her, and hung baggy around her arms and waste. He wondered why she was wearing his clothes at all. "A few phone calls here and there would have helped," he heard himself saying, and immediately regretted it. He sounded like a whiney baby.

Cameron's face remained blank, but her hand dropped from his cheek. "We weren't always in situations when that was a prudent idea, but I am sorry."

He knew it was safer if everyone else kept their distance. He knew he was being monitored for safety, but it would be too dangerous to have his family show up too often and risk being seen by someone who recognized them from the news. At least in his private room he was somewhat secluded from the general populace.

John sighed and let his eyes roam over her face again. "It's okay. I'm just being a whiney bitch. It kinda really sucked being here all alone, that's all. I wonder what made the doctor suddenly decide to release me. I was only allowed to eat something actually delicious just yesterday. I'm pretty sure they were feeding me tunnel food the whole time."

"I asked him to," she admitted "I thought you'd enjoy your birthday more if you were at home."

Surprised, John looked away to hide his blush.

"I thought everyone forgot."

Cameron tilted her head in that annoyingly cute way that always turned him into a puddle of goo. "Forgot about what, John?"

He shrugged, and kept staring down at his shoes in embarrassment. "My birthday. Me. I don't know. It just…" He let the sentence trail off, not really knowing what else to say. Hearing himself admit to what he did made him realize how stupid it sounded. He should just pick up whatever dignity he might actually have left, pack his bags, and get the hell out of there and try to forget the whole thing.

But no, of course that's not what he was going to do. He was going to watch his remaining dignity fly out the window as he let himself be wrapped up in strong, cyborg arms. As he felt his own arms wrap around her tightly. As he buried his face in her hair and breathed in the unfamiliar scent of the shampoo she must have used. As he shivered when her hands scratched lightly at his back before slowly pulling away. As he grabbed her face desperately between his hands, as if he was scared she might actually leave him again. As his lips touched hers and he felt his knees go week. As he lost his balance and fell into her.

Cameron took a surprised step back to keep herself from falling over under John's weight. Her arms wound themselves immediately back around him, pulling him back up to his feet. She chuckled at the redness in his cheeks. "Perhaps we should wait until we're somewhere more private for that, John."

His cheeks blushed so much darker they almost turned purple. "Hilarious. When did you download a cheesy sense of humor?"

Cameron smiled as she took his arm again and led him slowly out into the hallway towards his room. "I had to do something. I've spent the last several weeks having to deal with Derek Reese."

John raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that mom's job now? And what about Dani? I'd have made him suffer with her instead."

"There were things that required my unique set of skills," she answered cryptically. "Dani has been working with John Henry in an experiment of sorts that could very well be a game changer. And your mom is pregnant, so I thought it best to for her to stay with Savannah."

John stopped dead in his tracks, a look of total horror on his face. "You're joking, right?"

Cameron shrugged, deciding the topic would be a useful distraction. "Am I? Maybe you should ask Derek."

* * *

**A/N: thanks for coming back to read! Things are going to start coming together in the next chapter. Obviously lots of things have been set up in this and the previous one. Maybe John will end up with a cousling (cousin/sibling) :p Or maybe I'm not that insane, and respect my readers way too much for that! **


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